


Inevitable

by Jeanie205



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 201,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanie205/pseuds/Jeanie205
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica and Logan have just graduated from Hearst, but they aren't together. They've each made plans, but, as so often happens, those plans get waylaid by life.  Can they handle everything that life throws at them?  A Love story in two parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My everlasting gratitude to the fabulous ELSchaaf, the world's greatest beta.

Part I - Chapter 1

 

She was pregnant. She'd already known it, already been sure. Didn't even really need to see the proof. But she'd taken them anyway, of course, all three of the early pregnancy tests that had been included in the box. She knew that no amount of running to the store for additional tests, trying to search out "more reliable" brands, was going to change the outcome one bit. And besides, the tests were fucking expensive and she really didn't have money to waste.

(And why were there three tests in the box anyway? Was everybody as absurd as she was, wanting a triple confirmation before going into panic mode? Or did some girls have pregnancy scares so often that they found the volume pack to be more economical?)

Veronica had always known that this was...a possibility. No matter how careful she was, no matter the double, or even triple redundancy of birth control used, there was always a chance that they'd all fail. Of course, there was an even greater chance that you might get knocked up when you'd impulsively slept with your on-again-off-again-on-again, etc, etc, boyfriend, and managed to get so carried away that you'd used nothing at all. Yeah, that definitely put a negative spin on the odds.

Veronica sighed with frustration. The thing that galled her the most was that this was now a situation that was beyond her control, and more than anything, Veronica needed to feel that she was in control.

She hadn't been in control the night it happened, either.

\--------

She was in The Rose and Crown, the pseudo-English pub right at the edge of the Hearst campus, celebrating the completion of the last final exam of her undergraduate career with Mac and Parker. Then he walked in the door. When she caught sight of him, after so long, she suddenly had to remember to take her next breath.

What the hell was he doing here? These days, Logan Echolls invariably confined himself to one of two types of drinking establishments. The first were the elegant lounges, like the bar of the Neptune Grand, the Marina Lounge at the Neptune Yacht Club, or any number of trendy LA bistros peopled by the famous and near-famous. His other watering hole of choice would have been the kind of dive that smelled of stale beer and staler patrons, anyplace where he wouldn't have to watch out for paparazzi.

The Rose and Crown was neither. It was popular with the college crowd, but it was also respectable enough to enjoy the patronage of both the faculty and visiting family on Parents' Weekend. Veronica would have bet that Logan had never been in this place before tonight.

He'd spotted her the second he walked in the door, of course, as though Veronica-radar were a part of his genetic makeup. His eyes locked on hers, and as always, neither could seem to look away. At that moment, Veronica knew with the certainty of more than a decade of experience with this one man, that before the night was over her life would once again be turned upside down.

It had been almost six months since she'd seen Logan, when the most recent iteration of their relationship, Version 7.0 if her count was correct, had crashed and burned just like all the others. Friends, enemies, lovers. Those were the earliest versions, and they'd each worked for a time. Then came Serious Relationship. That one had had definite possibilities freshman year, until their mutual baggage and her sexual insecurities had combined to tear them apart.

Casual Friends. They'd kept that farce going for more than a couple of years, until the sexual tension that always surrounded them like a miasma had become unbearably oppressive to everyone around them. One night, after yet another drinking game had degenerated into an unending round of mutual Logan/Veronica derision, their admittedly drunken friends had locked them in a room together with instructions to "fuck each other into bearability before you don't have any friends left." They'd emerged from that room three days later with Version 6.0 - Friends with Benefits.

But Logan and Veronica were incapable of keeping things light, of remaining uninvolved in each others' lives, of maintaining emotional distance. So FWB had eventually morphed into Version 7.0, Serious Relationship, Part 2. That had been just before the start of their senior year at Hearst. And this time, for a long time, they thought they'd gotten it right. 

Veronica was a woman of stunning intellect and incredible focus. She set her goals high and always found a way to meet them. The only thing Veronica had never been able to figure out was how not to sabotage her own happiness.

She was the queen of the self-fulfilling prophecy. She knew, just fucking knew, that relationships never worked out, that the people you loved, the ones that you let in, who saw your vulnerabilities up close and personal, well, they were the ones who always let you down. And so they always did. 

She knew that in the long run, Logan would never stay with her. Oh, she'd never accuse him of lying. Nope, he really believed he could be faithful. But whether it was Madison Sinclair, or that girl from his Econ class that Veronica saw in his Range Rover on the last night before Christmas break, Veronica knew it was always only a matter of time.

Logan explained every way he could think of that the girl had helped him out several times with class notes and he was just returning the favor by giving her a ride to the bus station on a night where the rain was pouring and the wind was howling. But she'd seen him smile as he helped that girl into his car, and she knew that there was more to it than that. There just had to be. Or else why would she be feeling like this? 

Veronica was resolved when she told him that she wouldn't be moving into his new beach house after all.

She was achingly sad and overwhelmingly relieved all at the same time. The worst had happened and she had survived. Now she could move on. At least that had been the theory.

Logan's despair was matched only by his anger. Why the fuck did she keep doing this? He moved into his house alone, but this time he was determined to retain some control over his life. 

His last semester as a business major would consist entirely of a practicum at a local company, and he'd already made arrangements to fulfill this requirement at Gant Publishing. He'd only have to venture onto campus occasionally to meet with his advisor. So for the first time in a decade, Logan made the decision to take himself out of Veronica's life completely. He knew with a certainty that at this point, it was the only way he'd be able to survive. 

But he didn't even try to fool himself into believing that moving out of Veronica's orbit meant that he'd stopped loving her, or wanting her. Or that he ever could.

\--------

Why the hell had he stopped here tonight, he wondered. He could easily have taken them to the Marina or the Grand. But the Gant Publishing execs that Casey had asked him to show around the Hearst campus had spotted the pub and he'd pulled into the parking lot without another thought. 

Logan tried to tell himself that he could, and should, ignore the fact that Veronica Mars was sitting not twenty feet away from him. And that she was out with girlfriends, not a boyfriend, so she was maybe - probably - still single. He tried to tell himself that he didn't give a fuck if she was single or not, and that he should leave this place right now. 

You might as well ask a starving man to ignore the sudden appearance of the one food that could provide him with sustenance.

He was on his feet and halfway to her table before he even knew he'd left his seat. Logan was never awkward with Veronica. With all the ups and downs of their relationship - ten fucking years! he could hardly believe it - he'd never been nervous when he was near her. Tonight felt different.

"Veronica." Her name felt rusty on his tongue, as though, after six months, he'd forgotten how to say it out loud.

He'd approached her from behind, and he could see her shoulders square, as if girding for battle. But when she turned around and looked up at him, Veronica couldn't stop her face from lighting up at the sight of him.

"Logan. This doesn't seem like your kind of place at all."

"Nope," he said with a laugh. "It's not. But Casey asked me to show around some of the execs visiting from his San Francisco office, and they wanted to stop here." He shrugged. "I owed him."

Without thinking, he sat down in one of the empty chairs and nodded at the other two girls. "Mac. Parker."

"We haven't seen you around much, Logan," Parker, always the most inquisitive of the group, raised her eyebrows at him.

Logan struggled to tear his eyes away from Veronica, and turned to address the others. 

"Semester-long practicum, required for business majors. I did mine at Gant Publishing."

"Oh, yeah. Isn't the owner a young guy? From around here?"

"We went to high school with him." Veronica answered Parker's question, making an effort to focus on anything but Logan's eyes, anything but Logan's lips.

Mac wasn't sure what Veronica wanted of her at this point. Should she drag her out of there bodily, or just let whatever might happen...happen? She opted to defer her decision.

"So how was it, Logan? Working out in the real world, I mean?" Mac asked.

Ordinarily, he could have waxed enthusiastic for hours about his recent experiences at Gant Publishing. But at this moment, he was barely capable of stringing together two coherent sentences.

"It was great, Mac. I really liked it." His eyes turned toward her briefly as he spoke. But his fingers, of their own accord, reached across the table to skitter across Veronica's forearm. 

He smiled at Veronica suddenly. She smiled back, unable to do otherwise. 

Mac had her answer. "Hey, Logan. Parker and I kind of need to get going. Maybe you wouldn't mind giving Veronica a ride home." 

"Whaaat?" Veronica really tried, but they all knew it was a token protest only, as she watched Mac and Parker walk out the door with final waves all around.

"Don't move," he said, as he got up to make arrangements with the executives. He offered to leave them his car, but they took one look at Veronica and at his obvious impatience to be gone, and waved his concerns away with smiles.

"No problem, kid. We'll get a cab. Have a nice night."

"Do you want another drink?" he asked Veronica, as he rejoined her at the table.

"Do you?" she responded, looking at him like she was trying to see inside his head.

"No, not really."

They rose then, and Veronica gathered her belongings, but there was no discussion about where they were going. Their feet simply carried them toward the exit.

They opened the door to rain cascading from the sky in sheets, wild and noisy. Logan raised his voice so she could hear him over the din of the torrential storm.

"Wait here while I get the car." 

Then he was off and running toward the parking lot, while Veronica huddled in the doorway, the cold and wet seeping into her thin sweater.

"Get in," he yelled, driving up a minute later, reaching across the seat to throw open the passenger door. Veronica hurried across the short distance from the pub doorway to the car and leaped inside, slamming the door shut.

The sudden quiet inside the Range Rover seemed unnatural after the noise of the driving rain. 

Logan looked over at her, grinning hugely as he swiped at the rivulets of water that were running down his face. She shook her hair, spraying moisture across the top of the dash. 

"The June Gloom seems a little extreme this year," Veronica laughed shakily, shivering in the sudden cold.

"Warm and dry. Got it." Logan pulled away from the curb. And still there'd been no discussion about their destination. 

He raced as fast as he dared along the rain-slicked city streets, heading west toward the pricey beachfront properties owned by the well-to-do. They didn't talk; they didn't need to. Each of them knew what was happening. 

He finally pulled into the garage of his small beach house, turned off the motor, and closed the garage door. The downpour that had followed them all the way from the pub could be heard only faintly now. Much louder, it seemed, was the sighing of their breath and the beating of their hearts.

And for the first time since Logan had seen that smile of hers, doubts began to creep in. What the fuck was he doing? he wondered.

But then she looked at him, her mouth just slightly open, her eyes heavy-lidded, and he knew they weren't even going to make it out of the car. He'd unbuckled them both and pulled her across the seat and onto his lap in a matter of seconds. 

She kissed him then, fiercely, as though she couldn't last another second until she was breathing in air that had first been in his mouth. 

"You know this is inevitable, right?" he said softly. "You. Me. Together. Like this."

"Sh," she said. "Don't talk."

His hands were on her then, rediscovering the map of her body. Their breathing became ragged, their bodies running on instinct. He pulled her sodden sweater over her rain-dampened hair, his palms skimming across her breasts in a reverent caress. The feel of her skin against his was intoxicating. He couldn't seem to touch her enough. 

Her hands crept under the back of his shirt and she pulled it over his head, moaning at the feel of his skin against her fingers after missing it for so damned long.

"Veronica. I won't last...I want you now." He was nearly incoherent.

"God, yes," she breathed, their bodies, as always, in harmony. She managed to bring her legs together long enough to remove her scrap of underwear, while he unzipped his pants and freed himself. It took only a moment to slide onto him, and then they were utterly lost, moving frantically, savoring every dearly-missed, oh-so-familiar, sensation.

They struggled, both of them, for some measure of control, but it had been too long and control was elusive. Hers broke first, his followed quickly, and they came to rest against one another, their hearts pounding loudly in the quiet cocoon of his car.

If that one time had been the extent of their reunion, it would have been the shortest in their storied decade-long relationship, but it was not. Logan turned off his doubts and shut down his defenses. Without another word, he carried Veronica from the garage into the house and along the hallway to his bedroom, and he refused to think about anything else.

She was here, and he loved her. And he would make love to her as long as she'd let him. Hours later, sleep finally overtook them, their bodies giving way to a combination of exhilaration and exhaustion.

When Logan woke up in the morning, it was still raining, and Veronica was gone.


	2. Part I Chapter 2

Part I - Chapter 2

It was raining again as Veronica drove home from the Women's Health Center, and she found herself wondering if it would ever stop raining. Southern California had never seen such a wet spring and summer.

The rain suited her mood, though. If only it could drown out her thoughts. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and gave a mirthless little laugh, pondering why she'd even bothered to visit the Health Center. She'd spent many a day over the past few years marching in support of a woman's right to choose, but it turned out that when push came to shove that wasn't going to be her solution.

Well, perhaps it wasn't so ironic after all, she mused. She was choosing. Choosing not to terminate the life that was inside her, choosing instead to have this child. Logan's child. She hoped it was the right choice.

Veronica sighed. Now that she'd made the decision, she'd have to figure out how to tell all the important people in her life. Neither Mac nor Wallace were around at the moment, so she could defer those conversations for at least a little while. 

Her dad was a different story. She knew she couldn't put off telling him much longer. And oh, yeah, she just couldn't wait to see the disappointment in his eyes. She'd seen his pride in her at graduation, and again when she was accepted to Stanford Law, and now she'd made a mess of it all.

Stanford. She'd have to get in touch with Stanford, see if she could defer until next year. And if she couldn't, well, there were other law schools. None, of course, of the same caliber. Not without moving across the continent. 

But she was going to think positively about Stanford. They would allow her to defer, under the circumstances. This was the twenty-first century, right? She couldn't be the first woman to ask for a deferral because she'd gotten herself knocked up by her on-again-off-again boyfriend of nearly a decade whom she hadn't seen for six months before she went crazy with lust...or longing. Or maybe a little of both.

Veronica sighed again as she turned into the parking lot of the complex where she and her dad had lived since she was sixteen. She let herself into the apartment, and headed for her room, exhausted. How could such a tiny being sap so much of her strength? She hadn't even felt like eating much lately. She chuckled to herself. If she didn't tell her dad soon, that alone was going to alert the investigator in him that something wasn't quite right.

But right now her dad would have to wait. She had something she had to do first, something she couldn't put off any longer.

She pulled her phone out of her bag, and scrolled down until she reached Logan's number. Veronica wondered what it said about the strength of their connection that no matter what the status of their relationship, she'd never been able to bring herself to delete his number.

She'd seen him only once since that night, and even then solely because he'd tracked her down and cornered her. Before that, there'd been dozens of phone calls, and even more texts. Logan was nothing if not stubborn. Persistent. 

But she'd pushed him away every time. 

As soon as she'd woken up next to him that morning, with the sound of the rain batting against the red-tiled roof of his beach house, she'd known that she'd made a terrible mistake. 

Six months apart, and it had taken only one glance, one smile, and she'd been caught all over again. She couldn't even blame the alcohol, because she'd barely taken a sip of her second drink when Logan had come waltzing over to their table, looked into her eyes, and mesmerized her, just like he'd been doing to her since she was 16 years old.

At least, that's how she preferred to think of it. She must have been mesmerized, or hypnotized, or some other "ized," because how else could she rationalize jumping into bed with him without a second thought. Without, if she were being perfectly honest, any thought at all. Her face heated as she remembered that they hadn't even made it out of the car that first time. 

That's when it probably happened, she figured. When that tenacious Echolls sperm had made its journey to the egg and completed the job of fertilization. She thought about all those charts Ms. Hauser used to have back in Health Ed. Maybe she should have paid more attention.

Of course, once they'd gotten into Logan's bedroom, he'd pulled out a box of condoms from the drawer of his nightstand. She laughed ruefully. Wasn't there an old saying about "closing the barn door after the horses had bolted"? Well, these particular horses appear to have moved like lightning.

She'd known he'd be upset when he found her gone that morning. But she'd been too afraid to stay. She'd written the note and called a cab, and then waited outside in the drizzling rain just to make sure he didn't wake up, see right through her ruse, and send the cab away when it arrived.

It had been so terribly hard to leave. She'd woken up, looked over at his naked body, and wanted so badly to curl up against him and just stay there forever. It had terrified her that when she was with him, she could still feel so damned much.

He made her want things that she knew she could never have. Intimacy. Fidelity. Eternal love. She'd already learned over and over again that life just didn't work that way.

Veronica sighed now, remembering that moment with vivid clarity, as she pressed Logan's number. She wondered if he was even around this summer. He'd finally stopped calling a couple of weeks ago, just about the time that Veronica had begun to suspect that her nausea and fatigue were not symptoms of a persistent strain of the flu. Sometimes irony just followed them around like a lost puppy.

When Logan didn't answer, she left a message, and had to wait only ten minutes for his return call.

"I'd pretty much given up on ever hearing from you, Veronica." His tone wasn't hostile, but it was wary.

"Uh, I just need to talk to you. It won't take long. Can you meet me somewhere? Maybe the lounge at the Grand?"

"Actually, I'm in L.A. with...a friend." he said. "But I can be back by about six and meet you then. How's that?"

"That's fine, Logan. Six it is." She hung up before she could open her mouth to ask about either the friend or the noises she'd heard in the background. It had sounded like he was in a club.

Didn't take him too long to move on. 

The thought came to her unbidden, and she knew that it wasn't fair. That if she'd agreed to see him again, he would have been happy not to move on at all. But she couldn't seem to help herself. 

Goddammit,Veronica! You can't have it both ways. Her head had always known that. It was her heart that was the problem.

xxxxxxxx

The long drive from L.A. to Neptune gave Logan the chance to get over the shock of Veronica's call, and to ponder her sudden request for conversation. Why now, he wondered, when he'd done nothing but try to get her to talk to him for the past six weeks. Ever since he'd woken up to an empty bed and very little explanation. 

He'd been euphoric that morning, visions of his night with Veronica filling his head and her scent all over his sheets. So when he'd found the other side of the bed empty, it hadn't at first occurred to him that she might be gone. She must be in the bathroom, he'd thought. Or the kitchen.

That's how stupid he'd been. Stupidly in love.

It had taken him a half hour to find her note propped up against an empty milk carton on the kitchen table. She had to leave, she'd said. An appointment, she'd said. He'd known it was bullshit immediately. And yes, he was hurt. But even more, he was bewildered. Didn't she understand that they were never going to get over each other? Hadn't last night shown her that?

So he'd called and he'd texted, and at first, she'd answered his calls, and responded to his texts. But all she'd say was that it had been a 'mistake'. She might as well have been reading from a goddamned script, because the dialogue never varied. They should have been more sensible. It had been a huge mistake. There was no chance they could get back together. 

When she'd stopped taking his calls and answering his texts altogether, Logan knew he'd have to confront her. Damn! Why was she so fucking stubborn?

He'd wanted to catch her alone, someplace where she couldn't immediately run off, but he didn't he want to invade her home. He remembered all too well the last confrontation he'd had with her in the Mars living room. It hadn't ended well.

She'd taught him a bit about surveillance, but never did he think he'd be using that knowledge in quite this way. He finally saw his opportunity one day about a week after she'd stopped taking his calls. He'd followed her to Mars Investigations and saw her father leave the building almost immediately and taken his chance.

xxxxxxxx

Okay, he thought, this should work. You won't want to cause a ruckus in the office because you never know who might be right outside. He knocked on the door and then opened it before she'd even responded.

"Logan!" She stood up abruptly. "What are you doing here?" She was practically hissing.

Logan moved to a spot just inside the office and closed the door behind him. His voice remained calm, but his words were like bullets aiming for a vital spot. "She doesn't take my calls, she won't answer my texts....she decamps from my bedroom in the middle of the night..." 

"It was not the middle of the night!"

"...in the fucking middle of the night, and now she wonders why I'm here."

Veronica was still, except for the arms she wrapped around her body, as if for protection against the bite of his words and the harshness of his tone.

"This isn't going to work, Logan. We aren't going to work. We never do. And no matter how much you harass me, I'm not going to say anything different."

"So we can't even have a discussion like two rational adults? We aren't kids anymore, Veronica."

"You're right, Logan, we're not kids, and you can't expect me to...to feel like I did when I was seventeen."

"Why not?!" he shot back. "I do. And so do you. You're just too damned stubborn to admit it." His voice had risen with his frustration level, and by now he was practically shouting.

He heard the door open behind him and he swung around, half-afraid he would find it was Keith returning. But it was a middle-aged woman in a blue coat.

"I can come back if you're busy, Miss Mars," she said timidly.

"No, no, come right in. This...gentleman was just leaving."

Logan felt her hand on his elbow as she pulled him out into the corridor.

"Don't do this again, Logan," she said. "I can't have you just...just...invading my personal space." 

Her eyes narrowed as she hissed at him. "I do remember being seventeen, and taking care of this jackass who was making my life a living hell by planting a bong in his locker. Bet I could come up with something even more creative nowadays."

He looked at her in amazement. Now she was finally copping to that - and threatening him with worse! He wondered why the hell he was even bothering.

"See you around,Veronica," he said as he slammed out the door.

Well, he thought, that went well.

xxxxxxxx

In desperation, he'd called Mac for advice. He knew he shouldn't put her in the middle, but maybe she'd felt sorry for him, because it was from Mac that he'd finally heard about law school. He couldn't believe that Veronica hadn't told him herself.

Yeah, they'd had plenty of sex that night, making up for lost time. But they'd also talked. About school, about their friends, about what they'd been up to in the last six months. He'd regaled her with a million stories about his meteoric rise from office boy to executive during his practicum at Gant Publishing.

She'd teased him about having an "in" with the big boss, and he'd explained to her very seriously that the practicum was supposed to get him involved in every level of the business. She'd laughed at his earnestness and told him his enthusiasm was kind of "hot." And then that had been the end of that conversation.

But with all they'd shared that night, not once had the words "law school" ever passed her lips.

It had been more than a week now since he'd spoken to Mac. Every day since, he'd wondered if he should try again with Veronica, try calling her, or cornering her. And now, suddenly, she wanted to talk to him. Somehow, he wasn't convinced he wanted to hear what she might have to say.

After nearly two hours on the road, Logan pulled into the garage at the Grand and parked. A sudden reluctance to open the door had him wondering whether what he was feeling right then was anticipation or anxiety.

You are such a fucking coward, Echolls. You wanted to talk to her. Here's your chance.

xxxxxxxx

The Neptune Grand lounge was nearly empty when Logan walked in and looked around for Veronica, finally spotting her sitting at a small table in the darkest corner of the room.

She looked up when she saw him approaching.

"Hey," she said, and it seemed to him that she looked particularly small tonight, maybe even a little forlorn, but that was probably just his imagination.

"Hey, yourself. Do you want anything?" Logan motioned toward the bar.

She looked down at her drink as if she'd forgotten it was there.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said. "You can get me a club soda."

A club soda? Well, why the hell not? Maybe she needed to be sober for whatever the fuck it was she was going to lay on him. He had a sudden terrible fear she was going to tell him she was sick, dying. But would she want to meet him in the lounge at the Grand to give him that kind of information? He shook his head to rid himself of such morbid thoughts.

When Logan returned with their drinks, he sat down facing her.

Veronica looked up then and tried to smile, but he thought it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"How've you been, Logan?" she asked casually, as if nothing was going on between them, as if nothing had ever gone on between them.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. He was too nervous, too anxious for small talk. If this was another round of you're out of my life forever, he wanted her to just get on with it.

"This really doesn't feel like a chit-chat moment to me, Veronica. I've been trying to get you to talk to me for six fucking weeks." Anxiety was making him sound harsher than he intended. "Not much more than a week ago, you were threatening me with god knows what if I didn't leave you alone. Obviously, there's something going on that you want to talk to me about, so why don't you just rip the band-aid off and get it over with."

"Fine," she said curtly, with just the smallest hint of bravado. She looked down then, focusing on her hands, watching them intently as they spasmodically rubbed up and down the surface of the glass tumbler. 

"I'm pregnant."

It took a few beats for the meaning of her words to sink in. "What did you say?" 

She looked up then, and he suddenly saw how nervous she was.

"I'm pregnant, Logan."

"Okay," he said, his voice, his whole demeanor, unconsciously softening. "Are you sure?" 

"As sure as three pink plus signs on three different home pregnancy tests. And then, yeah," she conceded, "I went to the Women's Health Center and had it confirmed."

Logan nodded, trying to take it all in. He'd never suspected that this was why she'd wanted to talk to him.

"It was in the car, wasn't it?" he said, remembering how it had been, how full of joy he'd felt to be with her again. How quickly they'd gotten out of control.

"Yeah," she said, softly. "Must have been."

Logan took a deep breath, desperate to offer his support, but unsure exactly what it was she wanted from him.

"What can I do to help you with this, Veronica?" Logan was certain that the next words out of her mouth were going to be a request to accompany her when she had the pregnancy terminated. The Veronica Mars he'd known for more than ten years had never wanted anything to do with motherhood. It was her body, and her choice, and he knew he had to support her decision.

"Do you need me to come with you?" She'd been quiet for a while now, and he wanted to reassure her. "Because that's not a problem. You just tell me when and I'll take you. I'd never let you go through this alone." His voice trailed off uncertainly as he caught the expression on her face.

Her mouth twisted in anger. "Well, you seem to have this all worked out. Do I get a vote?" The words were as bitter as the expression on her face.

"Of course you do," he hissed. "Yours is the only one that matters, but you already know that. What the hell is wrong with you? You asked me here for a reason, didn't you? I thought it was because maybe you actually needed me. But no, that's not it at all, is it?" He sighed. "It's still pretty much business as usual, right, Veronica?"

She barely waited for him to finish before she charged in. 

"What's wrong with me? Here's what's wrong with me. I tell you I'm pregnant with our child, and all you can think about is how fast you can get me down to some clinic so you can hold my hand while I get rid of it." Each word was bitten off with contempt.

"Well, screw you," she said, as she rose from her seat, shaking with anger, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't need this."

Logan reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could take a step, holding her in place with the lightest of pressures.

"Veronica...sit down." He saw her stubborn, set face and added, more softly, "Please."

Veronica sat, but her expression didn't change.

Logan couldn't bring himself to let go of her wrist, terrified that she'd try to leave again. He wracked his brain for the best way to continue the conversation, a way that wouldn't make her angrier than she already was, and he finally settled on being direct.

"You want to keep this baby. Our baby." His voice was tentative. He'd made it a statement, not a question, but still, he waited for her response.

"Yes," she said, chin raised in defiance. "I do."

She hurried on, and it was clear to Logan that she already had it all worked out, and that he wasn't going to figure anywhere in her plan.

"I don't need anything from you, Logan. I can sign any paper you want that this baby will have no claim on you...or your money." Her eyes swung down to where his hand was now lightly holding her wrist, and then back to his face. "I just thought you had the right to know. That's all."

She leaned back a little then, as though she'd said what she'd come to say and could finally relax. He let go of her wrist then, no longer afraid she would run out on him, as he rapidly tried to readjust to what she was saying. 

Logan picked up her hand, clutching it tightly, and thought about everything she'd told him in the last few minutes. And everything he needed to say in return, if she'd just give him the chance.

"Okay, Veronica, you've had your say, so how about now I have mine?"

She sat there, waiting, as still as a stone.

"This baby you're having is part of me! Look around, Veronica. How much family do I have? Trina? That's a laugh. And now you're telling me that I have a child coming into the world and you think I'll want nothing to do with it?"

As he spoke, his voice had gotten softer and softer. And he was still clutching her hand.

"You've already decided that we don't work, but you don't get to decide this. I want in, Veronica. I want in." 

He suddenly felt like pinching himself to see if this was really happening. Veronica was having his baby...and he was okay with it. More than okay. He was fucking overjoyed.

Who'd have ever thought that he'd be overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a father?

Veronica had been sitting there, silently watching and listening, but now he could see the beginnings of a smile on her face. He rubbed his thumb softly across the back of her hand, the hand that he'd never let go of. He grinned suddenly, feeling absurdly happy.

"Well, Mars, it looks like we're about to become parents," he said, his grin widening. "When do we get to give the expectant grandpa a heart attack with the news?"

Veronica shook her head as if to clear it, and then she, too, began to grin. "No time like the present, I guess."

xxxxxxxx

Her dad was taking the news amazingly well, Veronica thought. Maybe he had been a little suspicious, after all. It was a relief not to have to hide it from him any longer. 

All he'd said was, "You're not kids anymore, so I have to assume that you know what you're doing." Keith had always known when to bow to the inevitable.

"Thanks, Dad." Veronica hugged him. "I think you just want an excuse to buy all that Padres stuff they have for babies," she added, smiling at Keith's sudden guilty look.

She was amused by the wary expression on Logan's face as he stood beside her. He looked like he was waiting for her dad to pull out one of his guns and take potshots at his private parts. Veronica began to laugh hysterically, whether from relief or from her silly, solitary musings, she wasn't sure.

Both men looked at her like she'd gone crazy.

"Hormones," Keith intoned, shaking his head. "Mood swings. Cravings. Ah, yes, I remember it well." He smirked at Logan. "Good luck."

"Uh, Dad, why are you wishing Logan good luck? I think you're the one who's going to be needing the luck since I'll be living here."

Keith's eyes narrowed and the look he gave Logan was suddenly unfriendly.

"I don't understand," he said, swinging his eyes back toward Veronica. "You're here together to tell me, you obviously made this baby together, but..."

"But we're not together," Veronica matter-of-factly finished the thought for him.

"Why not?" he asked Logan.

"I think you'll need to ask your daughter about that, Mr. Mars."

Keith looked to Veronica for an explanation, but she just shook her head. 

He sighed. His daughter had always been incredibly stubborn. He knew he'd get nowhere if he tried to press her for an explanation today.

He moved the conversation in another direction. "What about law school, Veronica? Stanford?" 

"Well, there is some good news there, Dad. I talked to them this afternoon and there's a very good chance that I can get them to defer my admission until next year."

Logan turned to look at her. "You didn't tell me that," he said. "That's great news."

"I didn't think you knew about Stanford." Veronica looked at him in surprise. "Unless...Mac told you, didn't she?" 

"Yes, she did, but only after I pushed. I don't understand why you didn't tell me yourself." His confusion about this issue was obvious. "I would have been happy for you."

Keith sighed as he looked at the two of them. He never would understand their relationship, but he'd come to accept that there was a connection between them that was probably never going away. And now with this baby...yeah, he might as well get used to the idea that Logan Echolls would be a part of his life forever.


	3. Part I - Chapter 3

Part I - Chapter 3

 

Over the next few days, while Veronica concentrated on lining up an obstetrician, and mulled over how long she might be able to fit into her regular clothing, Logan had been thinking more long-term. 

That night at the Grand, Veronica had told him that she wanted nothing material from him for either herself or the baby. As far as he was concerned, that was bullshit. Logan was very wealthy, and uppermost in his mind these days was how to ensure that his child - and its mother - would always be provided for.

He'd thought about contacting his accountant, Avi Kaufman, but finally decided that what he really needed wasn't financial advice, but legal advice. He had access to some very high-powered attorneys in L.A., but eventually decided to seek the answers to his questions much closer to home.

No one was in the outer office when he got to the somewhat rundown suite of rooms located in a building not far from Mars Investigations. He tapped lightly on the door that read "Cliff McCormack, Attorney-at-Law."

"Enter." 

There was no mistaking that voice, Logan thought, as he opened the door and poked his head inside.

Cliff had been sitting behind his desk gazing out the lone window, but his attention shifted when he saw who was standing in his doorway.

"Ah, Mr. Echolls," he said. "Buying another house, or is it just the usual? Murder? Mayhem? DUI?"

"None of the above," Logan smirked, still holding onto the doorknob. He liked Cliff's irreverence, particularly after the obsequiousness of most of his other lawyers. "This is something different, something new."

"There's nothing new under the sun, kid, but okay, hit me with it." He looked at Logan expectantly, waving him into the chair on the other side of his desk.

"What if I was to have...a kid?" Logan asked, taking a seat.

"Well, since I don't think you're asking about medical miracles, I'm going to assume that there's a young lady involved." He studied Logan. "Unless we're talking hypotheticals here?"

"Not...hypothetical. Very much real." He was surprised to find himself a little embarrassed.

Cliff steepled his fingers and looked closely at Logan. "And do I by any chance know the lucky young lady who is about to become the mother of this brand-new Echolls?"

Logan squirmed a little, cursing himself for not anticipating that Cliff would immediately suss out that he was talking about Veronica.

When Logan didn't answer, Cliff looked thoughtful. "While I agree that babies are a new adventure for you, most people don't seek out legal advice at the prospect of becoming a father." He paused. "Unless you're somehow...disputing...the facts of the case?"

"God, no," Logan responded. "It's mine. And...of course it's Veronica who's pregnant. But no one else knows yet except her dad."

Cliff nodded, waiting.

Logan sighed. "I'm not like most other expectant fathers. I have...assets. And I want to be sure that my child is taken care of...no matter what."

"Well," Cliff said. "It's easy enough to set up a trust fund. That should do it."

"Nope. Not good enough," Logan said. "I want to make sure that this kid gets everything I have. And that...uh, its mother is taken care of as well."

Cliff looked quizzical. "Is there something here you're not telling me, kid? You planning to be pushing up daisies sometime soon?"

"No," Logan responded, looking at Cliff intently, "but I think you'll agree that my personal experiences have taught me that life often shits all over you when you least expect it."

Cliff sighed. "Point taken." 

He thought a moment. "Well, we can draw up a new will, leaving everything to the kid, with Veronica as trustee while he or she is a minor."

"Could the will be contested? By another family member, for instance?"

"Like?"

"Like my sister. Could she try to contest, say the kid isn't mine or something?"

"I suppose she could, but as soon as the kid's born, we'll get a paternity test done, and that would likely be the end of any lawsuit."

"When the kid's born? Likely?" Logan frowned. That just wasn't going to cut it. "What about now? I mean, it's not due until next March. What if something happens to me before it's born?"

"I never knew you to have such a morbid turn of mind, kid." Cliff sighed. "The best protection for both Veronica and any child would be marriage, of course. I don't suppose you've thought of that solution. It's the one most folks rely on in this situation." 

Logan shook his head in frustration. "If I thought I could get Veronica to marry me, you'd be getting an invitation to the wedding, and we wouldn't be having this conversation." 

"Veronica does have a mind of her own. A steel trap mind of her own," Cliff conceded.

"So?" Logan had been worrying about this for weeks, and he wasn't leaving without some kind of plan in place.

"Honestly, Logan," Cliff continued. "How likely is it that your sister...what's her name?"

"Trina."

"...your sister, Trina, would contest your will? Assuming, that is, you happen to die in the next seven months?" Cliff asked drily.

"If she thought she could get away with it, then very likely. Besides, you know Veronica. If Trina could convince her that she was benefitting from something she wasn't entitled to..."

"Yup, you're right. She'd maybe take something for the kid, but give the rest away."

Logan sat there in frustrated silence. He'd had a feeling that would be Cliff's opinion, and he was in complete agreement.

"So what do I do? I can't just assume that nothing will happen to me before this baby is born."

Cliff gave him a sympathetic look. "Actually, I think the odds are pretty much in your favor..."

Logan looked mutinous, and Cliff held up his hand to forestall whatever remark Logan was about to make.

"Okay, here's the best solution to your problem. Convince Veronica Mars to marry you. And good luck with that."

xxxxxxxx

Veronica didn't know what to do with herself. She was used to a constant round of activity, and the enforced slowdown brought on by her pregnancy was driving her nuts.

Not that anyone had told her to stop living. On the contrary, her doctor, and her father, and even Logan, had all thought she should keep to her normal schedule, at least for a while. The trouble was she didn't really have a schedule.

School was over. She'd gotten into Stanford Law, and between the LSATs and the application process, that had accounted for a lot of her time over the past year. That was on hold for now, of course, and she'd already sent them the required documentation to secure her deferral. So law school could officially takes its place on the back burner.

As for her cases, she really hadn't had the time in the past year to take on much, so she'd mostly just been helping her dad when he needed her by covering the office, or with some occasional light field work. And she knew she could continue with that, maybe even put in more hours now that she was done with Hearst. She knew in her head, that is. Her body was telling her differently. 

Veronica was tired. And when she wasn't tired, she was nauseated. And then she was tired again. It seemed all she wanted to do was nap.

She spoke to her doctor, who assured her that everyone's pregnancy was a little different and that she'd probably feel better as she transitioned into her second trimester. She quizzed Veronica closely on how much activity she could handle and told her that her fatigue level was well within normal parameters.

"Use it as an excuse to be a couch potato for a few weeks," she told her with a smile, "as long as you're getting some exercise. You'll have more energy soon enough. And after the baby arrives, you'll be lucky to get a minute to yourself."

Veronica liked Dr. Patel, but she obviously didn't know Veronica Mars well if she expected her to enjoy sitting around being unproductive.

"It's temporary, Veronica. Isn't that what the doctor said?" Logan reminded her when they got back from the appointment, and she was settled, once again, on the couch in her apartment.

"But I'm bored," she whined like a six-year-old on a rainy day. "I've seen every movie we have at least three times. And the TV is so tiny. I keep trying to get Dad to buy a bigger one. Even tried the old 'Can you imagine how great it would be to watch the Padres on a big screen?'. Complete with the head tilt," she added with a pout. "But he didn't bite."

"I think maybe your dad's immune to the head tilt by now, Veronica," Logan smirked.

"And I'm hot." The litany of complaints continued. "The air conditioning in this place never worked right. And now it's not working at all." Both her face and her voice conveyed her extreme displeasure that the fates were conspiring to ensure that she was neither entertained nor comfortable.

Logan tried hard not to laugh. "Well, I have the solution to both of those problems." He grabbed her hand and started to pull her off the couch.

"Wait. Where are we going?" As always, when Logan had an idea, he wasted no time trying to implement it.

"My place," he said.

Veronica pulled her hand away. "I thought we'd had this discussion, Logan."

"Relax, Mars. I just thought you'd like to spend some time in my air-conditioned media room."

"Media room? I don't remember seeing a media room when I was at your house?" Veronica, as always, was suspicious.

"Did you see anything at all except my bedroom?" Logan shot back in a flash.

Veronica blushed and stuck out her tongue.

That did provoke a laugh from Logan. "Come on," he said. "You can start cooling off in about fifteen seconds in my air-conditioned car. And I've got all your favorite movies. And a freezer full of ice cream," one of the few foods that Veronica seemed able to tolerate.

"Okay," she capitulated suddenly, too hot and bored to argue further. "But no funny business, Echolls."

"Cross my heart," Logan said. And silently added, at least not today. 

xxxxxxxx

Over the next couple of weeks, Veronica spent more and more time at Logan's. It was roomy and comfortable, provided first-class entertainment, and Logan catered to her every whim. The nausea had started to lessen, but she was still feeling excessively tired.

Logan had put his own life on hold, grateful that his wealth allowed him to work or not as the spirit moved him. Besides, he was still mulling over exactly how to utilize the talent for business that he'd discovered in himself while working at Gant. He'd originally declared a business major on a whim, so he'd been surprised to find he might actually like it.

Logan and Veronica were getting along better than ever, perhaps because the relationship had well-defined parameters, and, in many ways, an end point. How they would deal with their interconnected lives post-baby, neither one of them knew.

But Logan hadn't forgotten his fears about providing financial support for the baby. It was the middle of August, now, and the baby was becoming more and more real to him, and he was having trouble sleeping at night. His favorite forms of distraction - booze and women - somehow didn't seem like a good idea this time. 

He was finally driven to act by some tragic news about one of their Neptune High classmates, Luke Haldemann, who had been killed in a car crash in L.A. After he read about Luke on Facebook, Logan knew he wasn't going to have a good night's sleep until he could be sure that the people he loved most in the world would be taken care of, no matter what.

Logan found Veronica giggling in front of The Big Lebowski for about the millionth time, and he quietly shut off the TV. She looked up, befuddled.

"Forget to pay your electric bill, Logan?" she asked sarcastically. "Nope. Lights are still working, air-conditioner's still on, but the TV is somehow off."

"Veronica, I need to talk to you." He broke in on her monologue abruptly as he sat down on the couch beside her.

"What is it?" As always, Veronica was wary, cautious. "What's the matter?"

He knew he probably should start at the beginning, explain everything carefully, lay it all out meticulously. Step-by-step, that would be the ticket to getting what he wanted, what he needed, for his own peace of mind. But he was Logan, and logic had never been his middle name.

He took a deep breath. "Veronica, I think we should get married."

She sat up so suddenly she almost fell over. "Logan, what the hell are you talking about?!" 

Logan could be very persuasive, but he knew he wouldn't get many chances to convince her, so he focused his entire personality on making the most of this one. 

"I'm concerned that if something happens to me, this kid that you're carrying, my kid, won't get everything that I have. And I want our baby to have everything I can give it."

Veronica broke in. "I've already told you, Logan, we don't need anything from you." She was beginning to get angry.

"Well, you know, Veronica, that sentiment would be just fine if you'd been able to create that baby all by yourself. But we both know that's not how it works." He was getting a little angry himself, and he knew that anger would get him nowhere.

He ran his hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down.

"Look," he said. "I know that you are the least mercenary woman in this godawful town." He huffed a little laugh. "Make that on the entire planet. And I know you were never with me - in whatever fucked up ways we've been together over the past decade - for my money, or my status, or anything else that wasn't just, well, me."

His voice softened then and he reached his hand up as though to stroke her cheek, but just as quickly dropped it.

He sighed. "But the fact remains that that's my kid that's growing inside you. And the idea that he or she, whatever, wouldn't get everything I own if something should happen to me, well, goddammit, I can't fucking sleep at night."

Logan's shoulders slumped with the effort of trying to explain to Veronica just how crazy this was making him. He chanced a look at her then, and her incipient anger seemed to have vanished, only to be replaced by something sadder.

"Logan," she could hardly get his name out. "Is there something you're not...are you sick?"

He could see the tears glistening in her eyes, and he was kicking himself for being so stupid. He should have remembered that badass Veronica was really a cream puff inside.

"No, no," he said softly, gathering her into his arms. "I'm sorry if I scared you. No, I'm not sick, I'm not dying, nothing like that."

He pulled back from her and looked into her eyes, quirking a small smile. "I haven't had any bad news about my health. It's just that I've become resigned to the idea that life is always just about to kick me in the balls, and I want to make sure that the new Echolls that's arriving in a few months is taken care of, no matter what."

"Well, if you're really that concerned, I suppose you could set up a trust fund..." Veronica began.

Logan smiled. "Hey, Veronica, you're beginning to sound like a lawyer already." He knew he was going to have to come clean then. "I've been over all this with Cliff, and that was his first suggestion."

"You told Cliff about the baby?" Veronica did not sound pleased.

"Well, I needed some legal advice, so I saw a lawyer." He sighed. "And I didn't actually mention your name, but yeah, he figured it out," he admitted. "I'm glad I did, because Cliff was pretty clear about everything."

"What is it you're trying to tell me?" 

"My point is that I wouldn't want this kid to have some of my wealth, like a trust fund, I'd want him to have all of it. And the problem seems to be that no matter what I do, if I...die...before next March, that baby won't really be protected unless we're married. If I didn't have so goddamned much money, it probably wouldn't matter. But I do, and it does."

Veronica reflected for a moment. "Logan, you know that the chances of you dying..."

"Yeah? I'll bet that's what Luke Haldemann thought, too, when he got out of bed yesterday. But now I'm reading about his funeral arrangements on Facebook."

She was quiet then, contemplative.

"And then, of course, there's Charlie." Logan spoke again.

"Charlie?"

"Charlie Stone. You remember him. My bastard half-brother, who still won't talk to me, even after three years." And that still hurt whenever he thought about it.

"Logan, don't call him that!" Veronica was appalled.

"Why the hell not?! That's what he is. The bastard son of Aaron Echolls. Good enough to throw money at all these years, but not good enough to acknowledge, to make legitimate."

"The world has changed a lot. No one thinks like that anymore."

"Has it really? I don't think it's changed that much. The son of that fuck-up, Logan Echolls, grandson of the murdering seducer, Aaron Echolls? That will be enough of a cross to bear. But the bastard son of the fuck-up, the illegitimate grandson of the murderer, well, now we've got the makings of a best seller. In the pulp fiction section, of course." 

His eyes settled on a distant point in the room, and he had a troubled look on his face, as if he was imagining that very book on display in some shop window.

Veronica reached up then and stroked Logan's neck, forcing his head down to look her in the eye. "You're not a fuck-up, Logan," she said. "And besides," she smirked, "it might be a girl."

And suddenly they were both giggling a little, able, as always, to find humor in the farce that sometimes passed as their lives. It was how they'd made it this far.

But then the giggles subsided, and Veronica looked as though she were trying to find a way to couch her next words.

"Logan..." she began, but that was as far as she got.

"Don't bother. I know what you're going to say. That we don't work together, at least not like that, so how can you possibly marry me? Am I right?"

She looked at him for a moment, and then gave him a curt nod.

He took a deep breath. "I'm perfectly willing to have this be a 'marriage in name only'." He looked up at her then, but her expression was unreadable, so he continued. "If that's what you want. There's plenty of room here and you can pretend I'm not even in the house." 

That brought a smile from Veronica. Who, the expression on her face said, could ever pretend that Logan wasn't around?

"And then, sometime after the baby is born, you can have a divorce. Whenever you want it. You can wait until you're finished with school. Or not. You get to decide." He paused for a moment.

"We'll figure out a way to make it work with the kid. But you can get on with your own life. And I'll get on with mine."

Veronica looked at him then with an odd expression, as though she'd never once considered the possibility of Logan 'getting on' with his life.

He smiled at her. "And I promise not to give you a single cent. You'll get nothing at all from this dude. We can even have a pre-nup that says 'Veronica gets nothing'," his right arm shot out, writing it in the air with a flourish, "if it would make you feel better."

He picked up her hand and squeezed it. "I want this child to have the best start in life, to be burdened with as few negative labels as possible. And to have everything I can give him," he smiled, "or her."

Logan got up from the couch. "And I'm not crazy enough to expect an answer from you right now. But...please don't take too long to decide."

xxxxxxxx

The next day, the air conditioning in their apartment complex was finally repaired, so Veronica called Logan and told him she was going to stay home that day. Her place was nice and cool, and she had a lot of stuff she'd been neglecting, she said. He didn't question her. He just said, "Fine," in that smug way he had, like he knew she really meant something else entirely. 

But she did have things to do. Her personal laundry, for instance. Then she remembered that she'd brought her dirty laundry to Logan's a few days earlier and used his laundry room. (And who would have thought a laundry room could feel like such a luxury?). 

Nevertheless, she was sure she must have a few pieces of lingerie to hand wash. After poking around her room, she finally found a couple of bras that had been too delicate for the machine, and quickly dispensed with them.

Fifteen minutes gone. What next?

Baby names. Yup, she'd been putting off even thinking about that until they found out the sex of the baby, but now she thought better of that plan. She hated procrastinators.

But when she began looking through the books, every time she stopped to consider whether Cameron or Rowena might work, she'd wonder immediately about Logan's opinion. Grrrr!

Find baby name books? Thirty minutes. Look through and decide that baby-naming was a two-person job? Two minutes. Total: thirty-two minutes.

Then what about cleaning? Cleaning had always been a go-to activity for Veronica when she was restless. Problem was, by the time she made her bed and put away the dishes in the dishwasher, there was nothing left to do. Keith was not a messy person, and her prolonged absences over the last couple of weeks had actually meant that the place was a little neater than usual. She supposed she could swill out the toilets.

She lingered over the few chores as long as she could, but her total cleaning time still came to only twenty-three minutes.

By the time Veronica collapsed onto the couch for a short rest, she was considering whether she should try to find her old stopwatch so that she could time her activities for the day.

Not that she didn't know exactly what she was doing. Or not doing. She suddenly remembered that she hated procrastinators.

Veronica sighed and made herself a cup of hot tea, a poor substitute for the highly-caffeinated brew that she loved, but better than nothing. She brought it to the couch, the second-hand one that Keith had bought when they'd moved in there seven years ago, and relaxed into its familiar comfort. 

And because she couldn't let herself put it off for one second longer, she began to reflect on yesterday's conversation with Logan. 

He'd proposed. Well, she supposed it was more like a proposition. A business proposition. Still, considering everything that they'd been through over the past several years, not to mention her own oft-stated opinion about marriage, it was a shock to her that he'd even suggested it.

Let's face it, she thought. Romantic proposal or business proposition, if she agreed, they'd end up in exactly the same place. Married. At least for a while. 

She hadn't forgotten that Logan had also proposed an out-clause. After the baby was born, he'd agree to a divorce. They'd work out an arrangement regarding their child. Their child. Sometimes she could hardly believe it was really happening.

She knew that it must have taken some courage on Logan's part to even broach the subject with her, so the depth of his concern must be significant. He'd been looking a little haggard lately, and she'd been wondering if perhaps he wasn't sleeping well.

Now she knew why.

Veronica sipped her tea and tried to consider all the ramifications. The child would have the protection of a legal father, as well as his wealth. Veronica wasn't interested Logan's money, never had been, but that didn't mean she wanted to deprive her child. 

She knew that she could provide for him...her...all by herself, if she had to. But how could she deny a father the same opportunity, the same chance to care for his child? Just because Logan could give the child more...everything, didn't mean that it wouldn't be offered with just as much concern, with just as much love. 

Veronica smiled, suddenly picturing Logan unable to decide what to get the kid for his birthday - and ending up just buying it all! She knew she was going to have to be vigilant to keep him from completely spoiling their child. 

She grinned. Just look at how he spoiled her.

But unlike his own father, unlike that bastard Aaron Echolls, Logan would want to be a real father, and not some phony Hollywood-scripted version of one. She knew that once the baby was a reality, he'd have more to offer than just his bank account, even if that's what was keeping him awake at night right now.

Veronica sighed. And about that other thing. She'd been surprised when Logan had brought it up, because she wasn't really sure that it mattered these days if a child's parents were married. She didn't think the stigma of bastardy stung quite so much as it had in the past. But Logan did. And, after all, it wasn't she who'd have to suffer it, no matter the sharpness of the sting. It was her child.

It was then that it occurred to Veronica that she was seriously considering taking this step. Really, seriously considering...getting married. To Logan Echolls. (Although she knew damn well that if it were anyone else, she wouldn't be considering it at all.) 

Before she decided, maybe she should think about talking it all over with someone else. But here, her options were severely limited. Her dad? No need to even ask. She was pregnant, and he was her father. End of story.

Wallace...had been in Chicago since right after his last final. His father, the one he hadn't even known about for the first sixteen years of his life, had been shot in the line of duty, and was still recovering. Wallace hadn't even made it to graduation. She'd talked to him a few times, but she hadn't told him anything about what was going on with her because he already had enough on his plate.

Besides, as much as she loved Wallace, as much as she missed his company and valued his opinion, Wallace was still a guy. And this was a conversation she'd really prefer to have with another woman.

That left Mac. Veronica smiled. Yep, she could definitely have a woman-to-woman talk with Mac about her pregnancy, about Logan, about every single thing that had happened. And probably if Mac had been around she'd have already confided in her long ago. But she had gotten a fabulous job offer in San Francisco, and had left immediately after graduation. 

Mac was busy and excited, and Veronica wanted her to enjoy this opportunity that she'd worked so hard for. Veronica had finally been able to casually slip into their last phone conversation that she was deferring law school for a year. She'd known she had to say something because Mac had kept talking about all the things the two of them could do once Veronica moved to Palo Alto. 

Mac had been disappointed, but she'd accepted Veronica's excuse that it was a financial decision, and not asked too many questions. She knew that if Mac had any inkling about what was really going on in Veronica's life, she'd insist upon running back to Neptune at the first opportunity. And Veronica didn't want that to happen.

In truth, she knew Mac so well that she could probably have their entire conversation in her own head, anyway. Mac would listen carefully, then tell Veronica that she'd support her no matter what her decision. Mac had never liked trying to make up other people's minds for them (which of course was exactly the opposite of Veronica.)

In the end, she was left to figure it out on her own. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit that that was probably for the best, because Veronica Mars had always liked to make her own decisions. 

She was startled when she realized that somehow she'd managed this one, too.

Veronica finished her tea, glanced at the clock, and saw that it wasn't even lunchtime. She pulled out her phone, hit speed dial, and waited for him to pick up.

"Can you come get me?" she asked.

It was barely fifteen minutes later when she heard Logan's knock on her door. Fifteen minutes in which she might have conjured up everything that could go wrong and reconsidered. But Veronica Mars had made a decision, and fear would not rule her life.

As she opened the door, she gave just a fleeting thought to how many times she had opened that very same door to Logan Echolls. And to how many significant conversations the two of them had had across that very same doorway. So she supposed that it was as fitting a place as any for such a life-changing moment.

He stood there looking as nervous as she'd ever seen him, and so quickly, to put him out of his misery and before she could change her mind, Veronica said, "Okay, I'll marry you."


	4. Part I - Chapter 4

Part I - Chapter 4

Logan had feared the worst when Veronica called that morning to say she wouldn't be coming to the beach house, like she had every day for weeks now. She'd given him a million reasons why she preferred to stay home. Every reason, in fact, except the real one. 

But there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. He'd just have to hope that he'd been persuasive enough. That Veronica would choose to be with him and that he'd have one more chance to make it work. To make them work. He knew it would probably be his last chance.

The real problem was that he'd asked her to marry him, and Logan knew that Veronica viewed marriage the way that most people looked at a root canal: as something to be avoided at all costs. It wasn't surprising that she felt that way after twenty-three years of up-close-and-personal looks at Marriage: Neptune Style.

The lessons had begun at home, with her own parents. She'd once thought their little family was perfect, but she'd found out in the most painful way that things were very often not what they seemed. And then of course there were his parents - the suicide and the philandering murderer. 

Yup, in the parents sweepstakes, between the two of them, they could count one murdering, child abusing rapist, one suicide, two alcoholics, two adulterers, one runaway mom - and one decent man. Logan sighed. He knew that based on genetics alone, the odds were definitely not in their favor.

And as if the family history weren't enough, there were all those cheating spouses that were still the bread and butter of a business like Mars Investigations. Veronica had probably taken enough "money shots" to last her a lifetime. 

It had all come together in Veronica's head to produce a distaste for the institution of marriage that had become fixed at an early age, and reinforced again and again by her life experiences.

Logan expected that he should probably feel the same way, but somehow he just didn't. On the contrary. He would swallow any fear, shove aside any doubt, if it meant that he could be with Veronica. 

He didn't know what kind fate had brought into his life the one person who was able to draw from him the tenderest of feelings and the deepest of emotions, but he was grateful every day. Logan never doubted that the thing that had kept him from falling off the edge more than once was not that Veronica might love him, but that he loved Veronica.

And now he waited to see if fate would be kind to him once again.

When Veronica called back at 11 that same morning, asking to be picked up, he knew that she'd probably made a decision, and that he was just minutes away from either joy or despair. By the time he got to her apartment he was as nervous as a cat and twice as jumpy. 

So he could scarcely believe it when she opened the door and said without preamble, "Okay. I'll marry you."

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"But I have a few conditions," she continued after he'd gotten over the shock and they'd ensconced themselves on the couch in the Mars living room.

Conditions? She could have his right nut in a trophy case if that was what it would take.

"I get my own room."

"Of course," he said. "That was a given. You'll have your own bathroom, too."

Okay, Veronica thought, privacy issues taken care of.

"And we don't make a big deal about a wedding. In fact, I'd like to keep it as brief as possible."

"Done," he said. "Do you want to have Wallace and Mac there?"

That took a moment of thought. "They're both out of town, so no, I guess not. I'll...tell them after."

He nodded. "Okay. Anything else?"

Her mouth twisted into a grimace, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. 

"I suppose you could invite Dick." Although, now that she thought of it, she hadn't seen Dick since graduation.

Logan laughed. "You're in luck, Ronnie." She rolled her eyes at the despised nickname.

"Dick's mom was so amazed that he actually graduated from Hearst, that she made good on a promise to him that he could travel around Europe for six months on his step-father's dime. He won't be back until Christmas."

"Which step-father is this?" she asked. "Fourth or fifth?"

"Who the hell knows?" Logan replied, smirking. "Dick certainly doesn't give a crap." 

They both laughed.

"Okay, then," he said. "I guess it'll just be you, me, your dad...and maybe Cliff?" She nodded. "Any final requests?"

"Oh, and no rings," she added casually.

"No," Logan said.

"No...what?"

"Ixnay on the no rings. We're having rings. You can have the world's shortest wedding, you can wear anything you want, I don't give a fuck. But I want rings. I want you to have a ring."

Veronica was taken aback. "And what about you? Will you want a ring."

"As long as you put it on my finger."

Veronica was silent for a moment. "Logan, I thought that this was supposed to be a 'marriage in name only'? One we could dissolve? Would probably dissolve?"

Logan shifted uncomfortably, afraid to give too much away, and shrugged.

"I won't go back on my word, Veronica. After the baby's born, you can have a divorce...if you want it. But we aren't strangers, we aren't indifferent to each other, we're still you and me, and I want rings." On this point he was adamant.

It was the only thing he'd asked for, she realized. "Okay," she said finally. "But nothing too grand."

Logan smiled. "Nothing too grand," he agreed.

At this point in the proceedings, after having made such a momentous decision, most couples would probably have kissed. Or at least embraced. But not this couple, despite the fact that he loved her desperately, and she very likely loved him in return. No, no kisses or hugs for them. 

Instead she held out her hand to him, and he took it and shook it solemnly.

"So, Mars," he asked with a smirk, "don't you think we should maybe have spit on our palms before we shook? You know, to make it all official-like?"

Veronica laughed in spite of herself, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "I don't really think that will be necessary."

 

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When they told him, Keith Mars was somewhat surprised at this sudden about-face, but he was hardly in a position to complain. His daughter, who was pregnant, was marrying the father of her baby, a man she'd known almost half her life. It wasn't ideal, but Keith would take what he could get.

They'd asked Cliff to drop by the Mars apartment so they could tell him about their plans. When he heard about the upcoming wedding, Cliff was astonished.

"You know, kid," he said to Logan as he shook his hand, "somehow you never cease to amaze me," which brought an answering smirk from the groom-to-be.

A discussion then ensued about the logistics of a wedding in which one of the parties was the still-notorious Logan Echolls. Despite his years of attempting to avoid the spotlight, Logan was still fodder for the tabloids, and if the paparazzi smelled anything like a wedding in the wind, they'd be all over him. And Veronica.

California law required that they both appear at the county clerk's office to apply for the marriage license. That was the sticking point. The two of them standing in a long line at the marriage license window at the Balboa County offices would be like sending up red flags to the hungry paps. Before they ever reached the head of that line, they'd have had their entire lives laid bare for public consumption. 

Logan wasn't going to stand for it.

So Cliff called in a few favors. It took only a phone call to his friend, the Balboa County Clerk, who agreed that Logan and Veronica would be allowed into his private office where he'd personally process their marriage license application. And since California law required neither blood tests nor a waiting period, they could then slip upstairs to the chambers of another friend of Cliff's, a judge whose name Logan was familiar with.

"Jeff Bloom? Isn't he the judge who granted me bail when I was arrested for the murder of that biker?" He'd been so grateful at the time that he was unlikely to forget the name of his savior.

"The very same," Cliff confirmed. "But the favor ledger has tilted in my direction lately, so he's agreed to marry you on Friday afternoon."

"Friday afternoon?" Veronica gulped. "Th...this Friday?"

"That gives us two days." Logan said, poking her in the ribs playfully. "Plenty of time."

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"Plenty of time," Veronica grumbled to herself two days later, as she pulled the new dress over her shoulders. The dress that she'd had only one day to shop for. Her wedding dress. She shook her head, still trying to process the idea that in a couple of hours she'd be married. Married to Logan Echolls.

She probably had it all backwards. The having a baby part, that's what was supposed to be harder to accept, she thought, rubbing a protective hand over her still-flat abdomen. But she'd somehow, over the last couple of months, gotten used to that idea.

But getting married? To Logan? It seemed...impossible. She forced herself to remember that theirs would be a short-lived union. That they were only doing it because of the child she was carrying. That it didn't really mean anything. 

But she wasn't sure she really believed that.

Veronica looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered why she'd even bothered to buy the dress. It wasn't a gown, of course. That would have been ridiculous, and she hadn't even considered it. In fact, she knew if she'd told Logan that they were getting married in jeans and t-shirts, he'd have been fine with it

But somehow...she hadn't wanted to. Veronica Mars didn't believe in the institution of marriage, had declared often that she was never getting married...but she still wanted to look nice for her wedding.

Veronica sighed in frustration. Sometimes she hated that girly part of herself.

She heard a knock on the door then, quickly followed by Logan's voice. "You about ready, Veronica?"

Only with difficulty did Veronica stop herself from replying, "As I'll ever be."

When she saw Logan, she was grateful for every second she'd put into her appearance. He rarely wore anything but casual clothes, but today Logan was dressed in a dark gray suit that enhanced the long lines of his body and the breadth of his shoulders. He'd obviously gotten a haircut, and shaved the scruff that sometimes adorned his face.

Today, Logan Echolls looked exactly like the scion of Hollywood royalty that he was. It wasn't that Veronica had ever denied, even to herself, that the man she was about to marry was handsome and sexy. It was that most of the time she simply didn't think about it. 

Today, she couldn't seem to stop thinking about it.

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The carefully co-ordinated plan worked like a dream. An employee in the county clerk's office met them in the basement garage and whisked them up to the clerk's private office, where, after hands were shaken all around, their license application was processed and signed by the clerk.

A quick elevator ride brought them upstairs to the somewhat cramped chambers of Judge Jeffrey Bloom, who pocketed the license and suggested they get on with it.

Before Veronica could catch her breath, she and Logan were standing in front of the judge, in a room that reminded her eerily of the principal's office at Neptune High, and she was reciting wedding vows that she knew with a little twinge of guilt she had no intention of keeping. 

When the time came for the exchange of rings, Logan pulled out two wide, flat platinum bands. His was plain, but hers was surrounded by tiny diamond chips, the gem weight totaling probably less than a carat. Not grand at all.

Her dad took a few pictures and then it was all over. They'd walked in with a marriage license, and walked out with a marriage certificate. Veronica simply couldn't take it all in.

Keith took them all out to dinner at Mama Leone's, since Veronica's nausea had finally subsided and she was able to enjoy her favorite foods again. They ran from the parking lot into the restaurant to avoid a soaking from the rain that was once again turning their corner of the world into a sodden mess. Veronica was beginning to think that the rain had become like the soundtrack to their lives.

It was a small wedding celebration, but surprisingly cheerful. As Veronica sat there eating her lasagna, anticipating the tiramisu that she knew was coming later, she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. 

She'd gotten married, that was true, but the only tangible items she'd acquired that day were the marriage certificate, now folded up in Logan's pocket, and the platinum band currently sitting on the third finger of her left hand. A piece of paper and a piece of metal. They shouldn't make her feel so different. 

But somehow they did. 

She couldn't seem to take her eyes off the ring, twisting and turning it around her finger as though she couldn't get used to the feel of it. To the weight of it. Logan watched her for a moment and then leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You should look inside it."

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It was surprisingly easy for Logan and Veronica to get used to living together. They'd known each other for so long that there were very few surprises. And Veronica had been spending so much time at Logan's recently that they'd gotten comfortable again with each other's company.

Veronica had decided to wait until the holidays to tell Mac and Wallace about the baby...and about Logan. She knew it was a peculiar idea, but somehow it felt like everything would feel less strange if she could keep the outside world at bay for as long as possible.

Her dad came to visit often, of course, and was asked his opinion about the nursery they were setting up in the third bedroom. It took a few visits for Keith to realize that Veronica and Logan had separate bedrooms. He was puzzled, but he didn't say anything, preferring to let them work it out themselves.

In all other ways, though, they acted like the typical young couple about to have their first child. They debated baby names and picked colors for the nursery (rejecting with a smirk Keith's suggested baseball-themed room).

They were shopping for baby furniture, in fact, at the new mall on the outskirts of Neptune when they ran into someone in the food court who topped both of their "person I'd least like to run into" lists. There wasn't even a close second.

Predictably, she'd spotted Logan first, as he was disposing of the remains of their lunch, and followed him back to their table. Her smile was wide when she tapped him on the shoulder and coyly exclaimed, "Logan Echolls! I certainly never thought I'd see you in such an ordinary place."

But that smile dimmed a bit when she recognized his companion. "Veronica. Well, no wonder you're slumming it, Logan," she said with a sniff. She couldn't imagine why they were sitting together. She had it on good authority that they'd broken up for good several months ago.

"Madison," Logan acknowledged briefly as he sat down. Veronica said nothing at all, as Logan reached under the table and gently squeezed her knee.

Madison quickly tried to regroup. "I'm having some people over tonight," she simpered. "Why don't you join us? We can always use one more good-looking man around," she added, pointedly excluding Veronica from the invitation.

"I'm busy tonight, Madison," Logan said, and when he saw her mouth open again, he added very deliberately, "I'm busy every night." He pulled Veronica up then. "Let's go," he said.

What the hell, Madison thought, as they passed her without further acknowledgement. And then her trained eye caught sight of the glint of something on Veronica's finger. Her mouth dropped open in shock. She tried a quick peek at Logan's left hand, and she almost thought she saw a ring there, too.

But then she hastily dismissed the thought, since it was impossible for Logan Echolls to have married Veronica Mars without her hearing about it...No! Scratch that! It was impossible for Logan Echolls to have married Veronica Mars at all. She knew she'd been mistaken and she wasn't about to look the fool by asking any of their mutual acquaintances if it was true. Why bother when she knew it couldn't be?

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Veronica and Logan hastily exited the mall and were halfway home before the absurdity of it all hit them. Veronica suddenly glanced at Logan out of the corner of her eye, quirked a little smile, and said, "If she only knew!"

Logan grinned then, and soon they were both laughing so hard that Logan had to pull over to the side of the road because his body was shaking with mirth. And just like that, the power that Madison Sinclair had had over them, the power to interfere in their lives and to tear them apart, simply vanished. 

Painting the nursery had been on the agenda for the afternoon, so when they got home they changed into their oldest clothes. Veronica had told him they had plenty of time for painting and could put it off, but Logan was determined to get it done while she was still agile enough to help him.

"I need your vertically-challenged self to assist with the lowest parts of the wall," he explained with a grin.

"Very amusing, Echolls," she shot back quickly. "It's been ages since I've heard a new 'short ' joke."

Logan just chuckled as he opened the can of paint and gathered together the brushes, rollers and other paraphernalia they'd need for the job.

"So, Logan," Veronica's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the equipment. "Have you ever painted a room before?" 

"Of course," he said, looking bored.

She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow, and he looked a little chagrined.

"Well, okay, Nancy Drew, you got me. Maybe I haven't so much painted one myself as watched it being done," he admitted.

"Watched like...a million years ago when you still lived with...your parents?" Veronica suddenly wished she hadn't started that line of questioning.

"Uh, no." Logan didn't seem at all perturbed by the allusion to Lynn and Aaron Echolls. "It wasn't actually, um, in person."

"Not in person?" Veronica was puzzled, but then her eyes widened as she finally caught on. "Logan Echolls, do you mean to tell me that you bought all the stuff to paint this room and you've only ever watched people painting on TV?"

"Veronica, those DIY shows are great!" She'd certainly seen him watch them by the hour. "They explain it all, step by step. And also," he looked a little sheepish, "well, I wasn't absolutely sure I had everything covered, so I kind of looked it up on the internet." 

"The internet. The DIY shows and the internet." She shook her head at him. "Good thing I've got lots of experience with room painting."

Veronica smiled at him and wondered where this gentle teasing tone had come from. The chastising voice when she thought he might have wasted money on the materials. The admonishment that he might be in over his head.

Her hand stilled as she was mixing the paint with a wooden stick. Dear god, she thought, I sound just like...a wife!

Surprisingly, the painting had been going smoothly, although Logan, who had to paint all the sections of the walls that were over his head, ended up with an unsurprising amount of paint on his face. Veronica had been moving around the lower parts of the walls with practiced agility, when she stopped to take a break, caught sight of Logan, and burst into laughter.

"What?" he said, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Your face," she could hardly get it out, she was laughing so hard.

Logan glanced at the window, where the light reflected his image just enough for him to see himself covered in pale yellow paint. 

He put down his brush and squatted in front of Veronica, grinning. "Don't you know this is the new look? I wouldn't want you to miss out." And with that, he swiped some paint off his face and deposited it on her nose.

Her smile became focused on him then, and all she could see were his eyes and his smile. He was Logan, and she'd known him for half her life. He was the father of this child she'd decided to keep and to love. And he was her husband, whom she'd married in a five-minute ceremony only a month ago. 

He was covered in yellow paint, and he had a silly grin on his face, and suddenly a hot, sweet bolt of desire shot through Veronica that was so fierce that it almost took her breath away. Desire that she hadn't let herself feel in months. 

She rose abruptly on shaky legs and quickly left the room.

The smile disappeared from Logan's face. "Veronica...?"

"Think I've had enough painting for today, Logan," she called back to him as she hurried to her room, ran into her bathroom, shut the door behind her, and sat down on the lid of the toilet, shaking.

She heard Logan knocking at her bedroom door.

"Are you all right, Veronica?" he wanted to know.

She could hear the concern in his voice.

"Don't worry," she called out to him. "Just a crazy pregnancy...thing. I'm fine. Why don't we finish up the painting tomorrow?"

"Okay." He paused. "You're sure you don't need me to come in there?"

Oh, dear god, she didn't know what she might do if he came into the room just then.

"Nope, I'm good. Just peachy. Or I will be in a little while."

But she knew she wouldn't be, because suddenly, everything had changed. The genie was out of the bottle. She'd felt the desire and she couldn't hide from herself any longer just how desperately she wanted him. She wondered how long she could hide it from him.

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They finished painting the nursery a few days later, but Veronica wanted to wait until they found out the baby's sex before they started decorating, and that would happen at her next appointment. Veronica teased Logan relentlessly, because he was so convinced they were having a girl. And he teased her in return about the small convex bump that was rapidly replacing Veronica's once-flat abdomen.

Today, they'd gotten filthy cleaning out an unused storage area, and she'd retreated to her bathroom to take a quick shower. As she dried herself with a towel, she studied her reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing her changing body and wondering how much longer she'd be able to wear regular clothes, even loose-fitting ones.

She saw that it was raining again, and as she slipped on her robe, she watched the storm batter against the windows, and heard it beating on the red-tiled roof. She closed her eyes and remembered that exact same sound from that morning in early June. The sound of the rain on the roof, and Logan's naked body stretched out next to her.

Oh, god! She couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Logan holding her. Logan kissing her. Logan inside her. Her mouth was dry and her breathing shallow, and she knew that the wetness between her thighs wasn't from her shower.

This has to stop! 

For a split second, she was afraid she'd actually screamed that out loud. But no, Logan hadn't come running to see what was wrong. 

But he was knocking on her door and asking what she'd like for dinner. "Do you want to go for another episode of 'Adventures in Cooking with Logan and Veronica'," he asked, poking his head around the corner of the door, "or do you want to just order in? We can go out if you like, but it's raining pretty fiercely."

He was right there, she thought, right there, his hair wet from his own shower, the scent of his sandalwood soap filling her nostrils, and she suddenly had to sit down.

"Hey, are you okay?" He came into the room and crouched down in front of her, a look of concern on his face. "I knew we shouldn't have done all that in one day."

"No, Logan, it's fine. I'm fine." She reached up as if to stroke his cheek, and then quickly dropped her hand. But his eyes said he'd seen it, and had seen the expression on her face, and that he wanted her to touch him. She heard his breath catch.

"Let's order in some Chinese," Veronica said brightly, deliberately breaking the mood that had quickly, and dangerously, enveloped them. "Extra egg rolls for me!" she reminded him as he grabbed his phone to call.

When the food came, they threw on their most comfortable sweats and had a picnic in front of the gas fireplace, which they turned on in deference to the chill in the air brought on by the relentless rain.

Veronica licked her lips as she finished her fourth egg roll and started in on the spicy chicken.

"You and Chinese food!" Logan smiled, with a faraway look in his eye. "Courtyard at Neptune High."

"Oh, god," said Veronica. "That seems like a million years ago. Lilly...and Duncan." 

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his eyes wistful. "But we still have you and me," he reminded her, his smile tender. 

She could hardly stand it when he looked at her like that, she thought. Did he have any idea what it did to her?

"And pretty soon we'll have junior." She could hear the wonder in his voice.

"Junior? I thought you were convinced that this baby was a girl," she teased.

"And so I am. I was referring to Junior Veronica." He seemed to reconsider. "Although that is a scary thought."

One of the throw pillows from the couch sailed towards his head.

"You throw like a girl, Veronica," he said, catching it easily.

"Um, duh!" She waved her hand across her body, stopping for emphasis on her swelling abdomen.

And there they were again, staring at each other, caught in the spell.

Veronica yawned suddenly, and Logan chuckled. "Come on, mommy-to-be, you need your beauty sleep," he said as he pulled her up and pushed her towards her room.

"But what about all this?" She gestured toward the mess their picnic had made.

"Think I can handle it," he said drily.

Veronica was grateful. She was exhausted, not only from the baby that was sapping her strength, and the non-stop nesting they'd been doing at the beach house, but from the constant struggle to contain the upsurge of desire that kept trying to spill out of her.

She brushed her teeth quickly, then slipped into sleep shorts and a tank top and slid under the covers, falling asleep almost immediately to the sound of the rain still pouring outside.

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At first, Veronica didn't know what had startled her awake, but when she heard the crack of thunder, she knew she must have been awoken by the storm. She lay back down, but sleep didn't come quickly as it had earlier. Instead, her mind wandered to where it almost always did these days, to the room down the hall and the man sleeping there.

This is crazy, she thought. I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm lusting after my own husband. 

Trouble was, she knew very well that it wasn't just lust. With Logan, it was never "just" any one thing. It was so many different emotions all tangled up together that she didn't know where one ended and the next began. 

Veronica gave up trying to sleep. She sat up, turned on the light, and tried unsuccessfully to think about anything but her yearning heart.

Logan had been so good to her. He hadn't put even the slightest pressure on her to give anything more of herself than they'd agreed on. He'd taken care of her and allowed her to do anything she wanted with respect to the baby. 

Veronica looked down at her fingers, twisting and turning her wedding band. Really, she thought, insisting on the wedding rings was the only demand he'd made at all.

And that was when she suddenly remembered. The restaurant on their wedding day. Logan had been watching her twist her ring, and he'd leaned over and whispered that she should look inside. But she never had.

How could I have forgotten?

Now that she'd remembered, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she saw whatever it was that was inside her ring. Whatever it was that Logan had put there. She was suddenly desperate to know, and she pulled and tugged at the ring, trying to take it off.

But her hands had swollen a little with her pregnancy, and it was proving difficult to remove the ring from her finger. The more she tried, the more it resisted, and she was reaching previously unknown levels of frustration when her eye fell on her bathroom door and she had to laugh at herself for being such a chucklehead.

What the hell is wrong with you, Veronica? Has pregnancy addled your brain?

She slipped out of bed and into the bathroom where the application of a little liquid soap provided just enough lubrication so that the ring slipped easily off her finger. She washed it carefully to remove the soap residue and climbed back into bed with it clutched in her palm.

She held the ring delicately between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it under the light from the lamp on her bedside table, and saw for the first time what Logan had had inscribed inside her ring. Veronica was a small woman and the ring was correspondingly tiny, so the inscription filled its entire interior circumference.

V.M + L.E. = Inevitable

Their own personal equation. The mathematical expression of their unbreakable bond. This was what he'd been trying to tell her. Her breath caught, and she could hear the hammering of her heart.

Before she could stop to consider what she was doing, Veronica had placed the ring on the table, and was out of bed, down the hall, and standing outside Logan's bedroom. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Logan, who usually slept like the dead, sit up abruptly.

"What's wrong, Veronica?" he asked, instantly alert, his voice full of concern.

"Nothing, Logan," she responded quickly, reassuring him. "Nothing at all."

She stepped a little further into the room and added tentatively, "Well, maybe one thing. Yeah, one thing."

She could see Logan's look of bewilderment as she moved closer to the bed, and watched as it turned to confusion when she sat down on the edge. But when she reached up and lightly stroked his cheek, when she rubbed her thumb softly across his lower lip, closing her eyes at the feel of his skin, before finally bending down to kiss him, he understood her very well.

"Veronica," he breathed, kissing her back with desperate need. He could hardly believe that she was really there with him, that this wasn't some dream born of fantasy and desire.

She slipped under the covers, stretching herself against his solid form, and immediately felt the sweet relief of his body pressed next to her own. Oh, how she'd missed him! How had she managed to live with him for all these weeks without touching him? Without feeling his touch in return? She was tired of being afraid of how much he made her feel.

"Oh, god, Veronica. I want you so much, but I promised you we wouldn't have to be together...like this," he murmured hesitantly, his voice filled with longing.

She reached up and stroked his face again, smiling down at him. "I don't know how I've held out for this long, Logan, when every night I lie in that bed and I know that you're here next door, and I just...just..." How could she possibly tell him of the hours she'd tossed and turned, feverishly trying to think of anything but him, while her traitorous body tingled with desire?

They undressed each other hastily, then, and Logan pulled her to him once again. A soft moan escaped Veronica's lips as she felt his large body wrap around her own, felt the soft touch of his skin all along the length of her.

They kissed with wild abandon, his large hands caressing her, memorizing the changes to her body since he'd last been allowed to touch her like this. He felt the gentle swell of her abdomen and hesitated.

"Veronica," he breathed, forcing himself to ask one last time. "I love you so damned much and I want this more than anything. But I want you to be sure. Are you sure?" His eyes begged her to be certain. Certain that she could make love to him tonight, and have no regrets tomorrow.

"I want this, too," she said softly, looking at him as though the world began and ended in the warmth of his eyes.

Her hand slipped downward, stroking him, and she laughed giddily when he moaned, ecstatic that she could bring him such pleasure.

He backed up towards the headboard and pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling him. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, again stroking the swell of her belly. His words were low and soft, but she could hear the barely suppressed desire in the timbre of his voice.

"You won't hurt me, Logan. I want you. Please," she moaned, "please."

Her body already thrumming with need, Veronica closed her eyes as he slowly filled her. They both groaned with relief at how perfect this connection between them felt, just as it always had.

She began to move and roll her hips almost immediately, unable to stop the instinctive rise and fall of her body. It had been too long and she wanted him too much, and suddenly everything in her was exploding with pleasure.

"I love you," she said over and over, trembling, blissful.

Logan heard her words, felt her release, and the last ounce of his control disappeared as he poured himself into her.

She collapsed against him, exhausted, and nestled her head on his shoulder. As their breathing slowed, they pulled each other close, their arms wrapping around one another, content.

His hand stroked up and down her side, a gesture of possessiveness, of protectiveness. After a while, he broke the silence between them, and whispered a question in her ear. "Do you, Veronica? Do you love me?"

Veronica sighed against his neck, "Yes," she said. "So much that it scares me."

He could hear the rain battering against the windowpanes again, and he remembered another rainy night.

"And will you still be here when I wake up in the morning?" 

"I'm not going anywhere," she said sleepily, just before she drifted off.

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Logan had never imagined that he could be this happy. Nothing in his life had led him to believe that humans were even capable of this degree of contentment. And if he had known it, had heard that it was possible for 99.9% of people to feel so much joy, he would have bet every cent of his very considerable fortune that Logan Echolls would be left languishing down in the .1.

So it was not so strange that he had to keep pinching himself to be certain that this was really his life. That Veronica had actually told him that she loved him, that she was truly his wife and was carrying his child. And that she was in his bed every night. 

And not only at night. 

Sometimes, when they were in the middle of cooking or working on the house, or maybe when they'd just come back from a walk, or were eating breakfast (or lunch or dinner), Veronica would look at Logan in just that certain way, and he would smirk, knowing exactly what was on her mind. And she would shriek when he scooped her up in his arms or threw her over his shoulder. 

But by the time they got to the bedroom, she'd be kissing him frantically and pulling at his clothing and making soft little moans in the back of her throat. Sometimes it would be hours before they emerged. Usually, it was to satisfy Veronica's other voracious appetite, which had only increased now that she was pregnant.

Such happiness couldn't possibly last, he sometimes thought, ever the fatalist. So while Veronica remained oblivious to everything except the blissful "now," Logan couldn't help looking over his shoulder, waiting for that one thing, that one change in circumstance that would send his happy life crashing down around him.


	5. Part I - Chapter 5

Part I - Chapter 5

"You know," Logan said to Veronica as they were lying in bed on the third night after she'd moved into his bedroom, "we've never had a honeymoon."

"Yeah, well I think we kind of skipped that step," she replied. "In fact, we skipped a lot of the usual steps. Or maybe did them all backwards." She smirked at him. "Upside down?"

"Well, why don't we go back in this Game of Life and see if we can't stop on the square that says,'Take a Honeymoon.'"

Veronica turned on her side and looked him directly in the eye. "You're serious."

"As a heart attack." He quirked an eyebrow. "Hmmm. Perhaps not the best analogy. Nevertheless, I think we owe ourselves a little vacation."

Veronica was reluctant. "I don't know, Logan. I have my appointment with Dr. Patel next week and then we're going to be really busy."

"All the more reason to go now. Your fatigue and nausea are gone, and you're still not too, um, big," he winked at her and she looked affronted, "so this is probably the best time to go."

"Well," she said uncertainly, "where do you propose we go? I'm not exactly in shape for lying by the pool at some resort. Some women might like to see themselves pregnant and in a bikini, but that group would not include me."

Logan kissed the tip of her nose. "You know you always look beautiful to me." Veronica just sniffed.

He thought a moment. "What if we went up to San Francisco. We could go on to Napa, visit some wineries, restock the cellars."

"Logan, you don't have wine cellars."

"True, true," he grinned, "but I could maybe have some built." 

He looked at her uncertainly. "And then maybe...while we're in the area...we could even visit Mac."

Veronica was silent, but he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Like Logan, she'd been content to stay wrapped in their cocoon, alone except for frequent visits from Keith. Other than Cliff, no one else knew, so no one expected anything from them.

It wasn't just seeing Mac, talking to Mac. It was the idea of opening up their world, of letting other people in. Logan knew they'd have to do it eventually, and it just felt like it would be easier if they started with a friend, one who'd be supportive. Besides, he knew Veronica missed Mac. He knew she missed having another woman to talk to.

Veronica was still hesitant. "But do you think...it's okay for me to travel right now?"

"Veronica, it's a very short flight from San Diego to San Francisco. Maybe ninety minutes. And we'll plan just a long weekend, so you'll be back in plenty of time for your next appointment."

When she still looked unconvinced, he made a further suggestion. "You could check with Dr. Patel, see if she thinks it's safe for you to travel."

An hour later, Veronica had received the okay from her doctor. Logan bought tickets and made reservations for the upcoming weekend, but Veronica was starting to look a little panicked.

"I guess I'd better call Mac, let her know that I'm...that we're...coming. Uh...what do you think I should say to her?"

"Why don't you just tell her that you have a little surprise for her?" Logan suggested, smirking.

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Their flight to San Francisco left that Friday morning at 9 a.m., and by noon they were ensconced in their suite at The Four Seasons.

Veronica was predictably appalled at the size of their room. 

"Do we really need all this space, Logan? It seems like such a waste. I know this hotel is ridiculously expensive anyway, and we could've gotten along just fine in a regular room. Maybe we can get them to change..."

"Veronica, stop!" Logan broke in on her rambling monologue. "I know you hate the idea of extravagance for its own sake, but what the hell is wrong with being comfortable? Considering how much money I've got," she looked like she was about to interrupt, but he just ignored her and continued. "Considering how fucking rich I am, we live very quietly. And goddammit! This is supposed to be our honeymoon, even if it is only four days long."

He grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. "And since it is our honeymoon, just think of all the different places there are in this suite that we could practice, um, honeymooning."

She giggled and batted at him ineffectually, trying to push him away.

"For instance," he continued in that husky tone that always made her shiver, "we could try out the bedroom right now. See if we could recommend it to other honeymooners. You know, these fancy hotels live and die by the recommendations of their guests."

All the time he was talking he was walking her backwards into the bedroom.

"Logan," she tried a feeble protest. "I've never been to San Francisco. I want to see the city, not just the inside of this suite."

"Later, Bobcat," he said, picking her up in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. "First things first."

By five o'clock that afternoon, they were walking around Ghirardelli Square like any other tourists, looking exactly like the honeymooners they were. Veronica had already discovered the 'make your own sundae' section in the Ghirardelli chocolate shop, and built herself such an enormous concoction that Logan had been sure she couldn't possibly finish it. But of course she had.

"What time are we meeting Mac?" he asked.

"Seven o'clock. She said that would give her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and get to the pub."

"And she doesn't know I'm with you?"

"Nope. You suggested surprising her and that's what we're gonna do."

"So...seven o'clock," Logan said, glancing at his watch and waggling his brows. "I think that might give us just enough time to go back to the hotel for a quickie."

Veronica laughed and poked him in the ribs. "In your dreams, buddy. Let's walk around some more and maybe get to the pub a little early."

By six o'clock, Veronica was getting tired and Logan found them a taxi. As they sat in the back of the cab, he noticed that she seemed to be getting more and more nervous with each passing moment.

"Veronica, it's just Mac. She's one of your closest friends. What's bugging you?"

"I don't know, Logan, up till now it's felt so good to be just...just you and me. And now...it's going to be, I don't know, different somehow." Veronica had let herself forget the outside world for a little while, and now she was uncharacteristically anxious about letting it in. 

"Here's what won't be different, Bobcat," he whispered softly. "I'll still love you and you'll still love me. That's never going to change."

"You promise?" Her voice was uncertain.

"I think I already did that back in the judge's office, but I'll do it again. I promise, Veronica."

They'd arrived early as planned and were sitting at a table they'd been lucky enough to find near the back of the crowded pub when Mac entered shortly after seven. Veronica was facing the door and saw her immediately, and a huge grin lit her face.

"Mac!" She waved to her. "Over here!"

Neither Mac nor Veronica had ever considered hugging to be necessary each time they happened to meet. A quick 'hey' or even a wave would often do. But this was the longest they'd gone without seeing each other in almost six years, and a spontaneous hug felt right to them both.

So between the hugging and the "How are yous," and the "You look greats," it was understandable that it took Mac some time to realize that Veronica was not alone. In fact, it wasn't until Logan stood up and pulled out a chair for her that Mac noticed his presence.

"Logan! What are you...? I don't understand." Mac looked questioningly at Veronica, sure that if something as momentous as a reunion between Veronica and Logan had occurred, she would have been the first to know. Hadn't she, after all, been the one to receive Logan's desperate phone call when Veronica refused to talk to him?

So Mac sat and waited, expecting some simple explanation. They'd decided to travel together. Or maybe Logan was living in San Francisco, too. She brightened, hoping that was the answer. She wouldn't mind having an old friend living in the city.

"Uh, Mac." Veronica stopped short, frustrated as to where...how...to begin. Finally, she simply held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers in front of Mac's face. And waited.

"Jazz hands?" Mac was perplexed. "Or jazz hand, single? What does that have to do with anything?"

Veronica groaned and lowered her head into her hands, stymied. She simply couldn't find the words to explain, and it appeared that her pantomime wasn't working, either.

Logan shook his head, chuckling, and picked up Veronica's left hand, put it on the table next to his own, and waggled the index finger of his right hand between the two rings that adorned those hands.

Back and forth, back and forth. Mac's eyes followed Logan's finger, mesmerized. Her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing.

Finally, she looked up at the two of them, grinning at her like a pair of fools, nodding their heads at her look of disbelief.

"Oh. My. God. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! What? When? Why wasn't I invited?" She narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. "What the hell is going on?"

"Um, well, surprise number two." Veronica said, removing her jacket so that Mac could see the gentle but clearly visible swelling of her body.

"Holy fucking shit!" Mac clearly needed a moment to process it all. 

But soon her face lit with an enormous grin, and she jumped up, pulling Veronica into an even fiercer hug than the one she'd given her just minutes before. And then she moved on to Logan.

"But...but why didn't you tell me?" She was baffled.

Logan and Veronica looked at each other, wondering how to explain the emotional journey they'd taken over the past few months. Wondering where to begin.

Logan tried to make her understand. "I guess it just took us a while to figure it all out," he said. "Veronica may have taken just a little bit of convincing," he added, smirking.

"Shocking," Mac grinned.

"Yeah, he finally sold me on the idea by promising me a pony, but I still haven't seen it yet," she teased.

"How about I buy one for our daughter instead?" he asked.

"You already know you're having a girl?" Mac asked.

"Nope. That's just Logan being his jackass self. He's already bought a huge pink teddy bear. We find out next week using the wonders of science," she smirked at him, "as opposed to Logan's intuition."

"What are you going to do if it's a boy, Logan?" Mac wanted to know.

"Inconceivable!" he said with a wink.

"Ya know, I don't think that answer actually works this time," Mac said with a laugh. 

"So," she continued, "am I the last to know?" 

"You're the first to know. Well, outside of my dad and Cliff. They were at the wedding."

"Which was at...?"

"Judge's chambers, county office building."

"But...how did you keep it out of the papers?" This was directed at Logan. 

"Well, that's kind of why it was so low key, Mac. I know Veronica, both of us, really, would have loved for you to be there, but..."

"I understand. But now you're going to tell me all about it, every last detail, and you're not going to leave anything out."

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They spent hours over drinks and dinner regaling Mac with tales of their tortuous road to married bliss. Logan had pictures of the wedding on his phone, and he uploaded them to Mac's phone after extracting her promise to exercise discretion in who she showed them to.

"No problem," Mac said. "As of right now, it's just our little secret. I'm not telling anyone."

They invited her to come with them to Napa the next day, but she was having no part of "horning in" on their honeymoon, as she put it. So they promised to spend the day with her on Sunday, and then Logan bundled Mac into a cab, despite her protest that she'd be just fine taking BART.

"I don't think so, Mac," he said. "I think you may have done a little too much celebrating."

"Well," she explained, "I had to drink Veronica's share, too, since she's on the mommy wagon."

Veronica cringed. "Mac, I promise that we'll spend the whole day with you on Sunday as long as the words 'mommy wagon' never, ever again cross your lips."

"Scout's honor," she yelled through the opened widow as the cab pulled away.

"And now I think maybe the person on the 'mommy wagon' needs to go to bed," Logan smirked.

"And if you ever use that term again, Logan Echolls, you'll be shut off!" she threatened with a snarl.

It was late by the time they got back to their hotel, and Veronica was drooping. She'd put him off earlier so she desperately wanted to make love to Logan, but she was simply too tired.

"I told Mac, you know," she said to Logan sleepily, as she crawled into bed.

"I know, Sweetie, I was there." He smiled at her fondly as he tucked her in.

"No, not that, not about the baby...or about us." She looked up at him with the softest look she'd ever yet given him.

"While you were up getting drinks...I told her that I was happy...that I loved you," she yawned. "But Mac said she'd known that for a long time." And with that, her eyes closed.

He could hardly believe it. Veronica, the most private person he'd ever known, had told somebody else how she felt about him. As he slid into bed beside his wife, curling himself around her warm body, Logan thought that this was perhaps the single happiest moment of his life.

Later, when he had time to look back on this moment, Logan would reproach himself for letting down his guard, for forgetting that life had never been very kind to him. But, in the end, he knew it would have made no difference.

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She could feel the trickle between her legs before she was even awake. There was pain, too, not the intense kind, not the kind that you usually associate with a shattering, life-changing event, just the dull throbbing kind that seeps in when you least expect it.

She hadn't even realized she was moaning until she heard Logan's voice.

"Veronica, my god, what's wrong!?" Logan was startled out of a sound sleep.

"I think...oh, god, Logan, it feels like I'm bleeding."

Her eyes were filled with fear.

Logan looked at the clock. Three A.M. He made an instant decision that the front desk could probably get an ambulance there faster than he could, so he picked up the room phone and made his request, letting them know what was happening.

Then he hastily threw on some clothes and put in a call to Veronica's doctor, who promised to get in touch with a colleague in the area who would meet them at the hospital. Dr. Patel was familiar with San Francisco, and she told him to have the ambulance take Veronica to San Francisco General.

He'd barely gotten that done when the night manager was at the door with the paramedics, who went directly through to the bedroom. The manager told him that he had also made arrangements for Logan's transportation to the hospital.

"How far along is your wife, sir?" the paramedic asked, coming out of the bedroom a moment later, a transceiver clutched in his hand.

Logan grasped for the correct answer, unable to take in what he was afraid was happening. That Veronica was lying on the bed helpless, while their child bled out of her.

"Sir?" The paramedic with the SFFD emblazoned on his jacket asked again.

"About...four months," he finally responded. Or not at all. Or not at all.

But he couldn't think about that now. Veronica was his first priority, and he watched as the paramedics carefully wrapped her up and loaded her onto a gurney.

"Veronica," he said softly, trying to rouse a reaction from her. She finally looked at him, but the tears he expected - like the ones he could feel stinging at the back if his own eyes - weren't there. Instead, her face looked...blank.

"They won't let me ride in the ambulance but the hotel is already holding a cab for me downstairs, so I'll be right behind you." He tried to reassure her.

She nodded, understanding. At least he hoped she understood, because her face remained a mask.

They had her wheeled out and down the elevator in a matter of a very few minutes. If it had been the middle of the day, an ambulance at the entrance to a five-star hotel might have attracted some attention. As it was, there was no one around at all. No one to see, no one to witness yet another Echolls family tragedy.

Just as they were about to load her into the ambulance, the wall of blankness suddenly came down.

"Logan! Logan, what's happening?" She was disoriented and terrified. He saw the anguish in her eyes, the grief that they both knew was coming already starting to build.

"They're going to take good care of you, Veronica," he said, trying to conjure up some way, any way at all, that he could reassure her, comfort her.

"I love you," he finally said in desperation. Right now, it was all the comfort he knew how to give. "I'll be right behind you."

"Logan," she whimpered, as they loaded her into the ambulance, begging him with her eyes not to let it be happening, to somehow find a way to fix it.

Never in his whole, miserable, fucking life had he felt as helpless as he did at that moment.

"Sorry, sir, we need to go now," the paramedic said as he climbed in and closed the bay doors, leaving Logan standing there in the middle of the street. The ambulance took off with sirens wailing into the rainy San Francisco night.

Logan got into the cab and looked at his watch. Three-seventeen A.M. His whole life had fallen apart in just seventeen minutes.

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By the time Logan got to the Emergency Room, Veronica was being evaluated by Dr. Patel's colleague, a middle-aged man whose face was etched with fatigue. 

"Dr. David Rivers," he said, offering his hand to Logan. 

"I've done a quick examination, and I'm sorry to have to tell you both that I believe Veronica is having a miscarriage. It's not as common at this stage of a pregnancy, but it does happen." His face was a mask of sympathy. 

"What happens now?" Logan asked quietly, moving to take Veronica's hand. It felt like ice.

"She's freezing cold," he said, concerned. 

"Yes, she's lost a lot of blood. We're going to take Veronica upstairs to Obstetrics now for a more thorough examination, and then all we can do is watch her carefully and let nature take its course."

Logan nodded his head. "How long...will it take?"

"It's hard to say, but we'll be monitoring her the whole time. Your wife will be in good hands." 

Dr. Rivers put a hand on Logan's shoulder, ever so briefly patted it. "I'm truly sorry."

It was all Logan could do not to flinch.

"You can wait upstairs. Third floor," Rivers added.

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Logan sat in the waiting room with two new fathers who spent their time on the phone letting family members know there was a new little Smith, or Jones, or what the fuck ever. But not Echolls. There wasn't going to be a new Echolls. 

The others finally left and he sat there alone for what seemed like hours. He could see through the window that the sun had begun to peek through the gray morning mist, and he felt exhausted all the way down to his bones. He desperately needed a jolt of caffeine, but he just couldn't leave that spot in that room to search out a fucking cup of coffee until he'd seen Veronica again. Until he knew that she was all right.

Logan had never felt so alone in his life. Not when his mother had jumped off the Coronado Bridge. Not when his bastard father was revealed as a murdering bastard. Not when Lilly died. Because he'd always had Veronica. Even when he hated her and she hated him, and every goddamned fucking thing in his life made no sense, she was still there. Somewhere. 

He suddenly couldn't stand his own thoughts for one second longer. Six o'clock. He pulled out his phone, hoped she'd understand, because he really needed a friend.

Mac answered sleepily, confused by the early call on a Saturday morning. "Hello?"

"Mac?"

"Logan? What...what's wrong?" She was instantly awake. "Why are you calling at, uh, six-ten?"

"Veronica," he could hear it in his own voice, in the first words he'd said in over two hours, that he wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer.

"Veronica?" Mac prompted, her concern making her tone strident.

"She...Veronica lost the baby, Mac." 

"Oh, god, oh, god!" He could hear Mac saying softly on the other end of the line.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Uh, San Francisco General. I, uh, don't know where it is. I took a cab."

"I'll find it, Logan. Where exactly are you in the hospital?"

"Third floor waiting room. Obstetrics."

"Oh, Christ," he heard Mac mutter under her breath. Then in a normal tone, "I'll be right there, Logan. I'm already dressed. Can I...can I bring you anything?"

"I'd kill for some coffee, Mac."

"Done," she said.

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By the time Mac arrived at 6:50, Logan was alone in the waiting room, nearly asleep sitting up. She sat down next to him, squeezed his hand, and handed him his coffee.

"I hope I remembered how you like your coffee," she said, but she knew it didn't really matter.

"What's happening, Logan?" Mac wanted to know.

Logan turned his head toward her as if his neck were rusty. "They're monitoring her. The doctor said it might take a while." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Mac studied Logan, and she could see that his eyes were red, but whether from fatigue or tears, she wasn't sure.

"Our baby's gone, Mac. She's just...gone." He looked at Mac, his eyes still disbelieving.

Mac remembered how Logan had been convinced that Veronica was having a girl.

"I know, Logan. I'm so, so sorry."

Logan looked down at the coffee he still hadn't touched and suddenly the tears that he must have been holding back for hours overwhelmed him. Mac took the cup from him and placed it on the table, afraid he'd spill the hot liquid all over himself. She put her arms around him and gently rocked him while he silently wept for his stillborn child and his grieving wife.

There wasn't really anything she could say, anything she could offer him, except her presence. Mac sat with Logan, offering her silent support for nearly two hours before the doctor finally returned.

"Mr. Echolls," Dr. Rivers said, "You can see your wife now." He paused. "Her body's been through a trauma. It's nothing she can't and won't recover from, but right now she's exhausted. When had you planned on returning to Neptune?"

"Uh, on Monday, but we'll do whatever you say is best for Veronica."

Dr. Rivers nodded. "We'd like to keep her here until tomorrow at least, just to make sure that there are no further complications. I'm going to get in touch with Dr. Patel, but if she concurs, and Veronica seems to be recovering, you should be able to leave on Monday as planned."

He paused and then said the words Logan had been waiting to hear for so many hours. "I'll take you to see her now." 

Mac looked at Logan, who nodded for her to follow him down the hall.

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She was freezing cold. Veronica was always colder than everyone else, always. That's why she dressed in layers, shoving on more sweaters and jackets when everyone else was taking them off. 

Lately, she'd been warm all the time. Lately. She knew it had been the baby keeping her warm, from the inside. But the baby wasn't inside her anymore.

The baby. That poor little ill-fated blob that had had the misfortune to pick Veronica Mars as its mother and Logan Echolls as its father. Stupid idea, she knew. Babies didn't pick their parents. If they did, would she have picked Lianne? Would Logan have picked Aaron? 

No, she thought, you got what you got. And in this case, her child had been unlucky enough to get two people who should never have been together in the first place.

She'd known it all along. That they couldn't be happy, that something would happen, that the earth would crumble beneath their feet, the ship would sink, the walls would come tumbling down. She wondered if she'd missed any clichés.

No, she should have stuck to the original plan. Not let...Logan...make her think that they could somehow beat the odds. She'd been a fool. But now it was time to get back to reality.  
The door opened and the doctor came back, the one who'd been with her all night, ever since...her mind veered away.

Logan was coming into the room, but she couldn't talk to him. It hurt too much, so Veronica turned her head toward the wall. It was easier to look at nothing than to look at Logan. Easier than looking into those eyes that thought they could love her enough to make everything all right. But things would never be all right. Not until she once and for all gave up this fantasy of a happy life with Logan Echolls.

"Veronica?" She could hear the fatigue in his voice, and a part of her wanted desperately to hold him, to comfort him. But she knew it was more important than ever that she stay strong and ignore that part of herself until it withered and died. 

"Should I go, Logan?" Another voice. Mac. Veronica turned toward Mac and held out her hand. 

Mac eyed Logan tentatively, and he nodded. 'Its okay,' his look said. 'Maybe you can help her'.

Mac grabbed Veronica's hand, but before she could open her mouth to offer words of sympathy, Veronica cut her off.

"Thanks for coming, Mac," she said brightly, "but you didn't have to. He...he should never have bothered you on your day off." 

Her face arranged itself into a parody of a smile and Mac felt her insides drop.

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Veronica stayed in that room, in that bed, for another 24 hours. Her body was slowly beginning to heal itself, but her spirits never seemed to improve. She said very little, closing in on herself as she was apt to do when life became simply too unbearable.

Logan wanted desperately to hold her, and for her to hold him. But while he saw his grief as a sadness to be shared between them, she saw it as something to be borne in solitude. So she lay in her bed while he kept silent watch in a chair by her side. 

And while she slept, his hands, which had not been permitted to stroke her cheek or touch her hair while she was awake, reached out under cover of darkness to carry out those acts of love.

On Sunday morning, Veronica was discharged, and they returned to their suite at The Four Seasons. In a reversal of her earlier sentiments, Veronica begged Mac to come back to the hotel with them. Mac would later look back on that Sunday as one of the most painful and difficult days of her life. 

It was clear that Veronica didn't want to talk to Logan, didn't want to look at Logan, didn't want to deal with Logan, and that she was using poor Mac as a buffer. Logan was too tired to call her on it, instead spending his time changing their flight to slightly later in the day and arranging for a car to the airport.

Veronica looked at him blankly when he asked if she wanted to call her dad. "No, you do it," was all she said. So he did that, too, filling Keith in and receiving his condolences. Keith, quite naturally, wanted to talk to Veronica, but when Logan held out the phone, she just shook her head 'no' without looking at him.

Logan finally collapsed onto the couch, exhausted in mind and body. But sleep was elusive.

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They all somehow made it through the rest of the day and night, even managing to eat something after Logan had food delivered to the room. When the hired car arrived to take Logan and Veronica to the airport the next morning, Mac saw them off with sad eyes and an aching heart.

Their flight to San Diego was routine, and they picked up the Range Rover from the airport lot and drove home through a pelting rainstorm, reaching Neptune by mid-afternoon. Veronica had barely spoken to Logan throughout the journey.

It wasn't until he was about to turn west off the freeway that he heard Veronica's voice.

"I want to go home, Logan," she said.

Logan sighed, relieved. "Good, because that's where we're headed."

"No. I want to go home. To my home, not yours." Her voice was calm.

"It's our home, Veronica. You live there with me." He was puzzled.

"I did, but I don't anymore."

Logan cut across two lanes of traffic, jammed on the brakes, and took the next exit. He pulled into the closest strip mall, parked and turned off the motor.

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked, swiveling in his seat to face Veronica.

"Take me home, Logan," was all she'd say, staring straight ahead. 

Logan felt the anger building in him and he tried not to give in to it. After all they'd been through in the past two days, now she was going to be pulling this bullshit again. He slammed the car into gear and pulled out of the lot, driving along the wet city streets until he came to the Sunset Cliffs apartments.

Keith was shocked to see them standing on his doorstep, but he hastily put his arms around his daughter. She turned her face into his shoulder, but showed no emotion.

"I'm really tired, Dad," she said, moving towards her old bedroom. "I think I'll just go to bed." She closed the bedroom door behind her without another word.

Keith looked to Logan for an explanation. He shrugged. "She insisted on coming here." It was all he had to say.

"Logan..." Keith stopped, at a loss for words and patted him on the shoulder. Quick tears sprang to Logan's eyes, and he turned away before they could spill over.

"I'm too tired to even think now, Keith." Logan said, his body sagging with obvious fatigue. "I'm going home. Could you...would you tell Veronica that I'll call her later?"

"Of course," Keith said, shaking his head at this latest development in the recent tragedy. "Try to get some sleep."

Logan barely made it home before collapsing. Hs mind was in turmoil. They'd lost their baby. And if that wasn't bad enough, if he wasn't already fucking sick at heart over that, Veronica had shut down so completely that it was as if the past few months hadn't happened. As if only days ago, they hadn't been nearly delirious with happiness.

But he was somewhere beyond exhaustion, and he simply couldn't stay awake for one second longer. After two sleepless nights, massive emotional trauma, shepherding a catatonic Veronica through two busy airports, and then driving back to Neptune, Logan slept like the dead.

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She was the first thought in his head as he woke slowly, and he was reaching for the phone before he was out of bed. Voice mail. Goddammit!

He was showered and out the door in 15 minutes, and at Keith's ten minutes later, but no one answered his knock.

Taking a chance, Logan continued on to Dr. Patel's office, where he found Keith sitting in the nearly empty waiting room. He looked apologetic when he saw Logan walk in the door.

"She insisted on coming first thing this morning, wouldn't let me call you." Keith ran his hand across his face, a gesture of resignation. "She had my cars keys in her hand, Logan. Threatened to come here by herself."

Keith sighed. "You probably know my daughter better than anyone on earth, so you know what she's like when she's made up her mind."

"What, made up her mind to act like a complete bitch? Is that what you mean?" He kept his voice low, but the barely-suppressed anger was evident.

Keith looked shocked, but not wholly unsympathetic.

Logan collapsed into a chair. "God, Keith, I'm sorry I said that. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You've had a traumatic shock, Logan. You both have. And when something like that happens, those old ingrained coping mechanisms....well, yours is anger and Veronica, she just closes herself off."

At that moment, Veronica emerged from the inner office, and she stopped abruptly when she saw Logan sitting next to her father.

"Dad!" The admonition was clear.

"I didn't call him, honey, although I probably should have. But Logan's a smart guy. He figured it out."

She rushed past them out the door and into the parking lot, Logan following behind her.

"Veronica, wait! What did the doctor say? Are you okay?" 

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but it seems I'll soon be back to normal."

Logan stopped dead, grabbing at her arm, pulling her around to face him. "Not any of my business? Are you fucking kidding me?" 

As they stood there confronting each other, the air between them fairly crackling with electricity, Logan's face showed every single emotion he was feeling...and Veronica's showed nothing at all.

"Logan," Keith tried to intervene. "I know you're angry and upset. Why don't you go home now and come back tomorrow. Come for dinner." He held his breath as Logan and Veronica continued to stare at one another.

"Okay, I'll go home," Logan said, his voice anguished. "But I'd like my wife to come with me. The woman who told me how much she loved me not even a week ago."

Veronica looked up sharply then, and he had a burst of hope when he saw her glassy eyes and shaking hands. But then she seemed to draw on a reserve of strength from somewhere deep inside her, a place that only the Veronicas of this world can find. And right before his eyes, her body stilled, her back straightened, and she fairly marched back to Keith's car, slamming the door behind her.

And Logan knew the beginnings of despair.

xxxxxxxx

Logan did go back the next day, but Veronica refused to have any sort of meaningful conversation with him. He left after thirty minutes. 

This began a pattern that continued over a period of weeks. Logan sometimes asking for, sometime begging for - and occasionally demanding - an explanation. Veronica just as adamantly refusing to engage with him.

They'd played this tune and danced this dance many times before, but this time it seemed to Logan as though somehow the stakes were higher. This time he felt like he was fighting for his life.

Veronica's body eventually recovered from the miscarriage and she began to look more like her old self. The old self that refused to acknowledge any connection with Logan Echolls.

One afternoon, Logan noticed that Veronica had managed, no doubt with Keith's help, to retrieve her car from his garage. The next day, when he made his daily pilgrimage to the Sunset Cliffs apartments, she demanded the return of her belongings from the beach house. 

Keith wasn't home that day, and when Veronica had opened the door and Logan walked in, she had panicked and looked for some way to get rid of him quickly. But her ploy didn't work. Logan suggested to her that if she wanted her stuff she could come and pick it up herself.

"As if I'd ever step a foot back in that place," she countered.

That brought Logan's head up sharply.

"You seemed to like it well enough a few weeks ago," he shot back. 

"Things were different then. Everything was different then."

"Yeah, Veronica, what was different? You're still my wife. We still love each other." His eyes begged her to agree.

Veronica looked at him in horror. "What's different? You unfeeling bastard! Don't you give a damn that our baby is dead?" Veronica couldn't stop the tears that sprang up suddenly.

"Don't I give a damn?! You think I don't care? You think I didn't want our baby as much as you did? You think I haven't been trying to grieve, but I can't seem to find a way to do it because I'm so filled with grief over losing you? And it's making me crazy. Goddammit, Veronica!"

Logan paused, trying to collect himself. "I'm the one who had to dismantle the baby furniture," he said. "I'm the one who had to carry that fucking pink bear out to the trash. I sat in that house for two goddamn weeks before I could even open the door to the...yellow room." He couldn't have gotten the word "nursery" out of his mouth if there had been a gun to his head.

Logan turned away from her then, rubbing his hand across his eyes as he tried to calm himself, then shifted back towards her.

"I can't imagine what it was like for you, lying there, bleeding. I know you felt helpless. But so did I, Veronica. So did I." How could he make her understand?

"Why were we even there, Logan?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean in that hotel, in San Francisco. Why weren't we at home?"

"I...we were taking a trip...a honeymoon...visiting Mac." She knew that as well as he did.

"And maybe if we hadn't been, if we'd been home... "

"Veronica, the trip had nothing to do with it. I asked Dr. Rivers about that specifically, and he was very clear. He must have told you." She couldn't possibly think...

Veronica looked mutinous. Her look said she knew what had happened and no amount of argument was about to change her mind.

"Veronica." Logan was appalled. "Do you blame...me? You think...somehow...if I hadn't suggested the trip...if we'd been home..." He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"I...I don't know, Logan." She relented. "I just know that it wasn't meant to be, that none of it was meant to be. It started as a mistake, and we tried to make it into something that it wasn't."

Her face was set and her chin came up. "I should have known better."

"But we were happy," he whispered, closing his eyes, remembering how it had been. "We...loved each other." He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. "We love each other."

"No," she said dully. "We just thought we were happy." 

Logan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "What can I do, Veronica? What can I do to make this better?"

"You can keep your promise, Logan. That's what you can do."

"I am keeping my promise. The one I made to love you and honor you, in sickness and in health." He willed her to remember.

Her tone was low, her body stiff, as though she were holding herself together through sheer force of will. "I'm not talking about that promise. I'm talking about the one you made that we could dissolve this ...this marriage whenever I wanted. Those were your words. Whenever I wanted."

"But that was before..." Logan couldn't believe that this was what she really wanted. He knew she loved him.

"You promised," she said, "you promised." Her voice was anguished, her control slipping. Before he could say another word, she bolted down the hallway to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

For a long while, Logan stood there in the stillness of that small living room, unable to move. Finally he turned and let himself out.

xxxxxxxx

Logan held out for as long as he could, praying that she would change her mind, because he knew very well that she still loved him. 

In all the years that they'd known each other, through all the many iterations of their crazy roller-coaster relationship, this had been the time, when they been together so freely and so happily, that he'd finally understood how desperately they loved one another. In the past, perhaps, he might have wondered about the depth of Veronica's feelings for him. But not anymore.

And she was throwing it all away. Something horrible had happened, and, yes, he was still coming to grips with his grief over the loss of their child. But somehow in her head, Veronica had twisted that tragedy until she was sure that what had occurred had not been just the tragic loss of a child but some kind of karmic testimony, some proof from the gods, that their relationship was doomed.

So Logan held out as long as he could, but all the while she kept reiterating that he had promised her, and she was holding him to that promise, and she refused to discuss anything else. Their child was never mentioned again. After three weeks, in despair, he surrendered. 

From where he sat in his car, Logan had a clear view of the doorway to the Mars apartment. As soon as Keith left, he got out and made his way to the door. It felt like he was walking to his own execution.

"Okay, you win," he said as soon as Veronica opened the door, every word like a knife to his heart. "I'll call Cliff and have him draw up the divorce papers."

Veronica looked at him with expressionless eyes and said nothing.

Logan shifted as if to turn away, but changed his mind suddenly. Quickly, he reached over and stroked Veronica's cheek, savoring the feel of her skin just one more time, then bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodbye, Veronica," he whispered, before turning and making his way back to his car. He didn't look back.

Veronica stood there for a moment, catching her breath, and then softly closed the door.

He called Cliff from the car. "I'm gonna give her what she wants, Cliff," he said, his voice empty of emotion. "Can you just make it as simple as possible?"

"I'm really sorry, kid," Cliff said. "I always thought you two..." He paused, sighing. "Yes, you've been married only a short time and I can draw up a simple no-fault divorce agreement that I think will pass muster with the court. I'll let you know when to come in and sign it."

When her dad got home, Veronica told him about Logan's visit and that soon it would all be behind her. If Keith wondered why, when Veronica had finally gotten exactly what she'd asked for, he later heard her sobbing in her room for hours, he certainly never asked.

A week later, Cliff called both Veronica and Logan and asked them to come in to sign the divorce agreement. He made their appointments several hours apart so that they'd be certain not to run into one another. It rained all day that day.

That evening, Keith Mars came home to an empty house and a note from Veronica telling her dad that she'd gone to stay with Mac for a while. Beside the note lay her wedding ring, which she asked Keith to return to Logan.

Keith reluctantly called Logan, who came almost immediately to pick up the ring. The two men shook hands and Logan left without saying a word.

When he got back to the beach house, Logan removed his own ring and stared at both rings for a long while before shutting them into the drawer of his nightstand. He sat down on the bed, wondering how he was ever going to be able to forget. 

But Logan was nothing if not a realist. The divorce agreement had been signed and as soon as it was filed, his brief marriage to Veronica would be over. He was going to have to find a way to accept that. He thought, in time, he might be able to manage it.

But to learn to live without her? Ah, that was going to be the tough one.

xxxxxxxx

Betty Whitlow hadn't been working for Cliff McCormack for very long, but he seemed to be an okay boss. He didn't pay all that much, but then he put up with her sometimes creative spelling and spotty filing. But the thing she liked most was that he often sent her to the courthouse with important documents to be filed. That's when she was glad she'd taken the job with Mr. McCormack instead of the boring accountant across the hall.

So Betty wasn't surprised when Cliff gave her a divorce agreement and asked her to leave a few minutes early that day and bring it to the courthouse for filing. He said it was important and that he'd do it himself but he had an appointment, for which he was already late. Betty was still standing there with her mouth open and the papers in her hand when she heard the outside door close.

Betty frowned; this was a problem. While she ordinarily loved her courthouse visits, on that particular day Betty had an appointment at Antoine's for a mani-pedi right after work. She'd had to wait more than a month to secure that appointment, and if she went all the way downtown to the courthouse, which was in the opposite direction from Antoine's salon, there wasn't a chance she'd make it back in time to keep her appointment. She looked at her hands and frowned. She wasn't waiting another month to take care of these ratty nails.

Betty was in a quandary. But then she brightened, the solution coming to her in a flash. She'd mail the papers to the court, instead. Oh, not just plain old regular mail, because that wouldn't be responsible. Betty knew better than that.

No, she was going to send those papers to the court by certified mail because she knew that was what you did with important stuff. She quickly typed up an envelope, pulled out a certified mail sticker from her supply, and affixed it to the envelope. 

It was pouring when Betty finally left the office, and she was glad that she'd remembered to take her umbrella that day. But even the rain couldn't ruin her mood. She smiled happily to herself as she dropped the envelope into the mailbox that was conveniently located right outside the office building. There, she thought, she'd solved that problem very professionally. And then she ran through the rain to her car, clutching her umbrella tightly, and moving on to the really important part of her day.

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Ever since he was a small child, Wayne Sorensen had wanted to be a postman. It wasn't a lofty ambition, but it was an honest one. He saw himself as a romantic figure, his daily visits linking his customers with the outside world. But after 25 years, the romance of the postal service had begun to fade for Wayne, and he developed bunions so painful that he spent his days off soaking his tired feet in hot water and dreading his return to work.

So when a job opened up at the regional post office, Wayne applied and was thrilled to find that his seniority secured him the position. Instead of being on his feet all day, he would be driving around collecting the contents of the mailboxes that were scattered across the city, and then returning the mail to the regional post office for sorting. Wayne couldn't have been more pleased.

It was raining again the day that he started his new job. He chuckled to himself, thinking, Neither rain nor snow...and was glad he could spend most of this rainy day inside a nice, dry truck. 

Wayne had almost completed his rounds when he found something in one of the final boxes on his route that put a frown on his face. Certified mail! Everyone knew that certified mail should be brought directly to the post office, not dropped willy-nilly into a mailbox. Wayne harrumphed and brought that letter into the cab of his truck for safekeeping, bundling up the rest of the mail into regulation canvas bags.

He was sighing with relief that his first day was over, and congratulating himself on how well it had gone, when it turned out that by sheer bad luck, Wayne's nearly perfect day was about to collide with an extraordinary climatic event. 

It would later be noted that 2010 was the wettest year in Southern California in the 122 years that such data had been recorded. It was so wet, in fact, had rained so often that year, that creeks, streams, and rivers were filled to overflowing, and dry gulches were no longer dry. The land was saturated and had reached a breaking point, and something had to give.

After yet another day of pouring rain, all the overflowing creeks and streams and rivers finally rose up in protest and with a suddenness that was breathtaking, flash floods erupted all over the city. The water rose so quickly, in fact, that one second Wayne was driving on pavement, and the next he'd turned a corner into a wall of water. There was no chance that he could keep the truck upright, and it turned over in an instant.

Later, he would feel himself extremely fortunate to have been rescued from the flood, and even more fortunate that his cargo, in its heavy canvas bags, had eventually made it safely to the regional post office. Not a single piece lost, he proudly told his supervisor. 

It was really not surprising that after such a harrowing experience, Wayne had forgotten all about that improperly-posted piece of certified mail, the one that he'd brought into the cab for "safekeeping." 

The envelope that was, in fact, now sodden and rapidly disintegrating and on its way downstream to the Pacific Ocean.

 

END OF PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have no training in either medicine or law, so I apologize to any of you who have such training for any egregious errors I may have made in those parts of the story. I hope you are able to overlook them.


	6. Part II - Chapter 1

Part II Chapter 1

She really didn't want to go to this shindig tonight. She'd rather have hunkered down with Jane Austen and a bowl of Rocky Road. She'd managed to find excuses to dodge the last two dinners, and tried her best to get out of this one, too, but eventually her guilt had overcome her reluctance. Veronica understood that this was one of the obligations that came with being engaged to a man like Matthew Garcia.

Matthew didn't make many emotional demands - and that was of prime importance to Veronica. But there were certain things - she preferred not to think of them as duties - that he did expect, and for her to be by his side at events like business dinners and charity balls was one of them.

She knew he liked to show her off, his much younger fiancée. Veronica didn't think much about her looks unless she thought she could use them to her advantage somehow, fool people into underestimating her. But she knew she was...attractive. And she supposed that if Matthew wanted to...parade her...a little, she was okay with it.

In some ways, she was amazed to find herself with a fiancé at all. She supposed that it meant she'd eventually be getting married...again. Veronica sat on the bed abruptly, her legs suddenly giving out.

Dammit! After all this time she should be over it. It was a chapter in her life that was dead and buried...as dead as...No! She wasn't going down that path in her head tonight. Not when she had to get ready for another one of those interminable dinners that Matthew seemed to get invited to with increasing regularity.

And she knew it was only going to get worse. More demanding. Ever since he'd told her about his political ambitions. She sighed. He hadn't mentioned anything about political aspirations when he'd asked her to marry him, but she couldn't say she was surprised. 

He was a man who'd come up from humble beginnings and was now one of the most successful attorneys in Northern California. He had accumulated wealth and attained a position of respect, but now, he said, he wanted to give something back.

To work in the public sector would mean a loss of income - Veronica certainly knew that well enough - but he wanted to do something to root out some of the corruption that he'd seen growing up. Well, she could relate to that, as she recalled her teen years in Neptune after her father was booted out of office. 

Veronica had never been back to Neptune, not since she'd fled, leaving behind only a short note for her dad. Oh, she'd seen Keith often enough. It wasn't a long trip to either Palo Alto or San Francisco, and he'd come to visit frequently. But she couldn't go back. She'd just wanted to forget.

She often wondered why she didn't feel that way about San Francisco, considering everything that had happened here. But it was a big city, and as long as she stayed away from San Francisco General and Ghirardelli Square, she'd found that she was okay.

Veronica rooted around in the back of her closet for one of the half-dozen dresses that she considered acceptable attire for one of Matthew's dinners. She knew she could have had a dozen more, if she'd let Matthew pay for them, but she'd been down that road before...

She stilled. Willed herself to change the direction of her thoughts.

She could have had a dozen more dresses, but she thought the ones she had were sufficient. Veronica had already told Matthew that when they married, she wouldn't suddenly become a trophy wife. She laughed softly to herself, wondering if he really believed her.

He should know what kind of a person she was, Veronica thought, slipping the sheer black chiffon over her head and stepping into the strappy sandals. The heels were not that high, so she was able to put the shoes on without having to sit down. Her mind wandered. Lower heels because she didn't need to make up as much height when they walked together or danced together. Matthew was barely five-ten, quite a bit shorter than...

Dammit! She'd spent years training her agile mind not to go there, and tonight she couldn't seem to think of anything else. 

Veronica sighed. She supposed it was the engagement, which was only a few weeks old. She looked down at the 3-carat rock on her finger and tried not to think about that platinum band with diamond chips that she'd left on her father's kitchen table all those years ago.

Five years, she thought. No, closer to six. 

Veronica finally gave up, sat on the bed, and let her mind wander to where it seemed to want to go, to that heartbroken twenty-three-year-old who had left Neptune without any plan at all except to get away. She'd fled to Mac, who'd taken her in in a heartbeat. Who had looked at her sad face and her ringless finger, and had asked no questions.

She smiled softly, thinking about Mac's tiny apartment, and herself camped out on the second-hand couch for months. At the time, it had felt like sanctuary.

xxxxxxxx

For a week, she didn't leave the apartment at all, keeping herself busy baking endless batches of cookies and cleaning the apartment from one end to the other. When Mac came home from work, she laughed and said that Veronica was welcome to stay without turning herself into the maid or the cook.

It was December, and the weather was chilly, much colder than Veronica was used to. But once she finally ventured out, she found that the cold didn't bother her as much as she'd expected, and she walked the city for hours, learning everything about it. Christmas came and went, and she and Mac stayed put. 

Mac's family had been disappointed when she told them she wouldn't be able to make it home for the holidays. A project at work, she had told them, hating to lie to her family, but knowing that Veronica needed her more than they did this year. Keith knew there wasn't a chance Veronica would be coming home. He called and they talked, and he knew he'd have to be satisfied with that.

Shortly after the new year, Veronica began to feel restless and decided to look for work. It would be months before she'd be starting law school and she needed to make some money now while she had the chance. 

She thought it unlikely that there'd be any local PIs looking for short-term help, so she concentrated on the local coffee shops who might be interested in an experienced barista. As luck would have it, she found work within walking distance of the apartment.

Mac got a promotion at work and was able to move into a slightly larger place nearby, but still with just one bedroom. They both knew it was pointless to look for a two-bedroom flat. In late summer, Veronica would be starting law school in Palo Alto, close enough to allow for frequent visiting, but far enough away to make it impractical for them to be roommates.

When March came,Veronica refused to think about what the month wasn't going to bring, instead forcing herself to look ahead. She focused on making arrangements for her student loans for the upcoming school year, and took the train to Palo Alto. She decided to begin at the Bursar's Office, and then visit the folks in Financial Aid to find out the most efficient way to sign her life away. 

But she never got that far.

The clerk in the Bursar's Office looked up expectantly when Veronica walked in the door. Her nametag read "Ellen." 

"Hi, Ellen," Veronica said. It never hurt to be pleasant, to make the interaction personal. She smiled.

"My name is Veronica Mars and I'm going to be starting at the law school in the fall. I'm looking for some numbers to take to Financial Aid."

"Uh, you don't have your acceptance letter? That information is usually included in the packet." Ellen smiled in return, sure she was being helpful.

"I don't have it with me, no," Veronica said, trying not to show her impatience. "And originally, I was supposed to start last fall, but I had to defer. I know there's often a change in costs from year to year, so I just wondered..."

"Uh, what did you say your name was?" Ellen looked uncertain.

"Veronica Mars."

"Let me just check with the bursar, Veronica." Ellen walked down the hall and knocked before entering a private office. She was gone only a few minutes before she returned and asked Veronica to follow her.

"Mrs. Rutledge, our bursar, would like to speak with you," she explained.

Veronica found herself in a small office, smaller than she might have thought for a position of importance at such a lofty institution. The slim, graying, middle-aged woman rose and held out her hand.

"Hello, Veronica," she said. "Won't you have a seat?" She indicated the chair facing her across the desk.

Veronica sat, feeling the slight stirrings of panic. She hoped there were no problems with her deferral, or her enrollment.

"I understand that you were looking for information about law school tuition costs." The bursar looked pleasant enough, but Veronica was withholding judgment.

"That's right," Veronica said. "I'm not sure if Ellen told you, but I was supposed to begin this year, but had to defer."

"Yes, she did mention that, but that's not why I asked to speak with you." She paused. "Ellen also said you wanted to know the costs before you visited our Financial Aid Office."

Veronica nodded slowly. "That's right," she said again, unsure exactly where this conversation was heading.

"Well," Mrs. Rutledge said, "you see, that's just what I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Veronica's voice reflected her bewilderment.

"I don't understand why you're planning a visit to Financial Aid when all your fees, costs, and tuition have already been paid." The slightest wrinkle of her brow in her otherwise placid face showed that the bursar was equally bewildered.

"But...that can't be." Veronica, who was never at a loss, was speechless. Could her dad have managed to cobble together the funds to pay for her first semester?

She cleared her throat. "I guess my dad wanted to surprise me, " she said. "But I like to plan ahead, so maybe you could tell me about the second semester fees. And the last two years."

The frown on Mrs. Rutledge's face deepened.

"I don't think you understand, Veronica. Your law school costs have been paid for the entire three years. Everything is taken care of." She smiled brightly, sure that Veronica would be thrilled.

And that's when Veronica knew.

The confusion left Veronica's face and determination took its place. Some might even have called the expression "stubborn."

"And what if I don't accept that my fees have been paid? What if I tell you that I want you to return that money to...whoever sent it?"

Mrs. Rutledge's face took on an odd expression.

"And why in the world would you ask us to do that? Why would you even want to do that?"

"I...I can't say. I just...I just don't want it."

Mrs. Rutledge frowned.

"Are the funds the result of some criminal enterprise?" she asked. "Should we call the police?"

"No, of course not!" Veronica was horrified.

Mrs. Rutledge's face cleared. "Well, that's a relief! Then no, Veronica, we aren't in the habit of returning tuition payments." She paused. "Unless, of course, you decide not to enroll." 

She looked at Veronica with a smile. "Of course, why would you pass up an opportunity to attend the best law school in the country?" She shrugged in answer to her own question. "But if you did, then I have very specific instructions."

"Instructions?" By now, Veronica was gritting her teeth. "And what would those instructions be?"

"Well, then the payments are to travel with you. Wherever you go to law school, your tuition will be paid. If you decide to attend another type of graduate school, your tuition will be paid."

Veronica clenched her teeth. She couldn't, couldn't accept such a gift from...him. But it seemed as though she was not going to have a choice.

She got up abruptly, almost knocking over her chair in her haste, and practically ran for the door.

"Veronica..." 

Mrs. Rutledge's voice stopped her in her tracks. She forced herself to turn toward the woman.

"Yes?"

"Good luck," she said pleasantly.

By the time she got back to Mac's apartment, Veronica was livid. Mac wouldn't to be home for at least two hours and she needed to vent her anger on someone. She called Keith.

Her dad was, as always, happy to hear from her, but she had no time for idle chit-chat today.

"Dad," she said, eschewing any preliminary greeting. "What do you know about my law school tuition?"

"I know it's bound to be hefty, Veronica, but I thought you were prepared for that."

"Then, you...don't know?" She was near tears by this time.

"Know what, Veronica?" Keith was becoming alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"He...he's paid my tuition...for the whole three years." Veronica answered, speaking so softly that at first Keith wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

"He...Logan paid for law school?" Keith asked, connecting the dots.

"Dad," he could hear the tears in her voice by then. "I gotta go. I'll...I'll call you soon." 

Veronica hung up the phone and sat down heavily on the couch. Mac found her there, sitting in the dark, when she got home a couple of hours later.

"Veronica, what's wrong?" She was so still, so silent, that Mac began to worry. And she could see that Veronica had been crying.

"Why did he do it, Mac? Why would he pay for law school?" she asked Mac without looking at her.

"What...who? Oh, my god! Logan. Logan paid your tuition." Mac was astonished, and at the same time... unsurprised.

"But why, Mac?" She turned her bewildered face toward her friend. "Why, after everything that happened?"

Mac was pretty sure she understood, and she crossed her fingers that she'd be able to explain it to her closest friend

"Veronica," she began, knowing she was on shaky ground. But she needed to be honest.

"Logan loves you. You left," here Veronica turned toward her, ready to do battle. Mac's voice was soft, soothing. "You had your reasons, I know that." 

She put her arm around Veronica's slim shoulders. "But...you gotta understand that Logan...well, he's not gonna just stop loving you."

She looked Veronica in the eye. "He couldn't make you stay...and you can't make him stop loving you. And this...it's the only thing he can do for you, so he did it."

"Did you know?" she asked Mac. The fight seemed to go out of her.

"Nope," Mac said. "I would have told him he was nuts." They both laughed a little.

"But I think you should just...accept it. Accept his gift. It was given with love, and those kinds of gifts you shouldn't try to return."

xxxxxxxx

Veronica remembered it all, the frustration of being forced to accept a gift that almost anyone she knew would welcome. She remembered how long it had taken her to come to terms with it.

But eventually, she had set aside her frustration, and her resentment, and, if she were being honest, her guilt, and looked upon Logan's gift with gratitude. Because when Veronica graduated from Stanford Law near the top of her class, she was not weighed down with debt. 

The prospect of looming loan repayments did not factor into Veronica's job search at all. So although she was courted by some of the best law firms in the city, Veronica had the luxury of being able to follow her own inclinations when choosing her career path.

Graduation was followed by months of intense study for the California Bar Exams. It was no surprise to anyone who knew her that Veronica passed the bar on her first try. What might have been a surprise was that two weeks later she accepted a job as the most junior DDA in the office of the Marin County District Attorney.

She'd been there nearly two years. Sometimes she could hardly believe it. Of course, if Matthew had his way, she'd quit the job in the DA's Office for something more lucrative. He never used that term, of course. No, Matthew always said she could find something more "challenging." But what could be more challenging than prosecuting lawbreakers? Than seeing them punished for their crimes?

Veronica had long since given up trying to personally right every injustice that fell across her path. That way lay madness, she understood that now. So she had found a way to integrate that part of herself into her everyday responsibilities.

In some ways, perhaps even in many ways, she had changed over the years. But not in this. Veronica Mars was still a seeker of justice.

xxxxxxxx

She heard the buzzer downstairs and grabbed her purse. Matthew didn't like to be kept waiting, and she tried to accommodate him. She understood. Her own tendency toward impatience was something she still fought to curb every day.

Veronica wasn't sure where they were going or what the purpose of the dinner was. It made no difference. Nowadays, it was all in the name of "networking" and "name recognition." And looking for men even wealthier than himself to help fill the campaign coffers. 

When she reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the door, she found Matthew waiting for her by the hired car. She approached, and he smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I wish you would consider moving to a building with a concierge, Veronica," he said, opening the car door for her. They'd had this conversation many times and her answer was always the same.

"I like to live within my means, Matthew. It might not look good if a lowly DDA could suddenly afford a luxury apartment." She smiled to take away the sting of her disagreement.

Matthew sighed. "There is an answer to that, too," he said, but that was another argument he wasn't going to win.

"You look beautiful, Veronica," he said, helping her into the car. "But then, you always do." 

He settled into his seat and gave the driver instructions, eyeing more closely the filmy chiffon of her black evening dress. "Of course, I have seen that dress at least a half dozen times before." Why was she so stubborn about taking things from him? He'd like to give her...well, not the world. No woman deserved that from a man. But he could certainly give her...things. Things that she needed.

Veronica rubbed the material of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger, amused. "And look," she said, "plenty of good wear still left in it." 

Matthew frowned and Veronica's face broke into a grin as she settled into her corner of the car.

"You wouldn't have already seen this dress so many times if we didn't have to go to so many of these damned dinners." Then she added, "I really can't have a late night tonight, Matthew. I'm still on trial in the Patterson case, and I've got to get up very early."

"You can take the car back, Veronica, any time you want."

She nodded and settled in for the ride out to Sausalito.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica had met Matthew at a dinner not so different from the one they were attending tonight. That had been the previous fall, and she smiled to herself thinking that she was pretty sure she'd been wearing this very same dress that evening, too.

She'd been recruited at the last minute by her bureau chief, Len Rosetti, to fill in at a dinner that he and his wife were giving. His wife was a partner in an uptown law firm, Matthew Garcia and Associates, and she was hosting a dinner in their home for some important clients.

Len had been talking with Veronica when the panicked call had come from his wife that two of the guests had dropped out at the last minute, both women. 

"I'm sure it's not going to matter, Maggie...so what if there'll only be two women..." His eye had fallen speculatively on Veronica. Hmmm. If nothing else, she'd be sure to liven up the conversation.

"I've got this covered, Mag. Get back to making the spaghetti." He grinned suddenly, and Veronica could easily see how fond he was of his wife. "No, I know we're not having spaghetti. See you later."

"So, Mars," he said, hanging up the phone, "you got anything in your closet that will pass for an evening dress?"

Veronica had had a long day, and the last thing she'd wanted was to go to a dinner party at her boss's house. But she liked Len, he loved his wife, and, well, she supposed she should get out more socially.

So she'd gone home and fished out of her closet the dress that she'd bought on sale at Barney's the one time that Mac had talked her into going to a gallery opening, and that had been languishing there ever since, waiting to be worn again.

Matthew had been at that dinner and she remembered how he'd looked her over when they'd met. As though she must be an idiot. Or maybe a slut. Who knew about a woman who looked like that? his glance seemed to say.

They'd been seated side by side and she'd returned the inspection, not bothering to be any more subtle about it than he'd been. Early-forties, dark hair just beginning to gray, medium height, nice smile. Later, he'd turned that smile on her, with a polite question.

"How did you find law school, Veronica?" Matthew asked, with just the right shade of condescension. At whatever no-name institution you managed to squeak into, his look seemed to add.

Veronica glanced over at Len, who was grinning from ear to ear, waiting gleefully for his most junior DDA to put his wife's boss in his place.

They'd been talking law schools, complaining about the three grueling years they'd all put in. Just a bunch of lawyers, comparing notes, right? But Veronica knew better. They'd been playing a game of one-upmanship all night, and now it was time for a round of 'my law school was more prestigious than yours'.

They might just as well have been a bunch of six-year-olds on the playground and Veronica was sick of it.

"Law school?" Veronica simpered, in her best Southern Belle accent that she hadn't trotted out in years. "Why, whatever do you mean? You mean I need more than my Community College degree to work with Len?"

Len's grin widened, used to Veronica's shenanigans, but his wife looked alarmed. The last thing she wanted was for her boss to be mocked by the last-minute addition to their dinner party.

Matthew Garcia looked perplexed, and shot a quizzical glance at his host, just as Veronica excused herself to "powder her nose." As she left the table, she heard Len laughing.

"Veronica has quite a sense of humor," he explained. "She went to law school just down the road."

"Berkeley?" she heard someone ask, and then very faintly, Len's reply. "A little further down the road."

When Veronica returned, intending to make a quick getaway, Matthew had offered her a ride home, but she'd declined, saying she didn't want to take him out of his way. But he'd understood that the real message was 'get lost.' She'd left, hoping never to see him again.

The next day, she found an enormous bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk when she returned from court. The accompanying card requested her company at dinner that evening. Veronica thought the flowers looked - and smelled - like a funeral arrangement. She tossed them in the trash and declined the invitation. 

But a man like Matthew Garcia did not give up easily. For some reason, she found his single- minded pursuit of her amusing rather than annoying. So much so, that when she eventually gave in and accepted his dinner invitation, she found herself also enjoying his company. 

Veronica had done some dating during her law school years, but it had been mostly of the frantic hook-up variety. During the school year, no one had time for anything but the most casual social life. Every spring was spent scrambling to get the most prestigious summer internship, and every summer was spent on a quest to be the most impressive intern in that most prestigious internship.

It had all been exhausting, and Veronica acknowledged that it had often led to some very bad choices on the rare occasions when she did attempt a social life. She'd sometimes let herself off the hook by reminding herself that a girl has needs.

When she joined the DA's Office, Veronica figured it was time to get herself back into the dating game. But things never seemed to work out. It was never hard to find men who wanted to take her out. That wasn't the problem. And she often enjoyed herself, as she was finally able to let go of some of the pressures of law school. And the sex - if she liked the guy well enough to let it get that far - well, that was usually okay, too.

No, the problem was that they were all looking for things that she couldn't give them. Hearts and flowers. Soul-searing passion. Commitments that included suburban houses with lawns that needed weekly mowing. And kids. 

'What, you don't like kids?' they'd all ask, pretending she must be kidding, confident that they could change her mind. Each one knew that he would be the one she'd want to build the picket fence with, have the babies with, bare her soul to. And each one was disappointed, to varying degrees, when he finally understood that it was never going to happen.

Matthew Garcia was different. He'd been married early, while still in law school, and he had a 20-year-old daughter who apparently spent her time contributing to the strands of gray that graced his temples and lent a distinguished air to his handsome face. 

Matthew was not interested in suburban family life, with its barbecues and PTA meetings. Or any family life, for that matter. He hadn't been very good at it the first time around because he'd been busy building up his law practice. Some would say he'd been busy stealing it out from under the unsuspecting nose of his former father-in-law, but that would probably depend on where you were sitting when it all went down.

If you were Bryce Harrison, Jr., then Matthew Garcia was an upstart Latino who had befriended your son, Bryce III, in law school, knocked up and married your daughter, and eventually amassed enough power within the law firm where he'd graciously been given his start to pull off a hostile takeover.

Out with the old, in with the new, and suddenly Harrison, Harrison, and Garcia had become Matthew Garcia and Associates. Matthew had brought in a lot of bright young attorneys, rainmakers, and he'd never looked back. So if you were part of the new team, someone like Maggie Rosetti, you respected him and credited him with saving a hidebound law firm from folding under its own weight. 

Veronica, who had grown up in Neptune despising the entitled 09ers holed up in their gated enclaves, subscribed to the latter view. Besides, she liked Len and couldn't imagine his wife working for someone she couldn't admire.

She'd continued to see Matthew, fitting him into her schedule whenever it was convenient for them both. The sex - eventually - had been good. He knew his way around a woman's body, and besides, things had been a little barren in that area for Veronica lately. Matthew hadn't wanted the hearts and flowers, either, which was just as well. 

When Matthew proposed, it had been a bit of a shock. Now that she knew about his plan to run for Attorney General, the cynical side of Veronica was less surprised. Married politicians were somehow more appealing. 

Sometimes Veronica still wasn't sure why she'd accepted. During the day, when her work kept her so occupied that she didn't have much time to ponder her life, she thought it might have something to do with the need for stability. Since she'd left Neptune, she'd often felt like a rolling stone, and she wanted - needed - to be a little more grounded.

But at night, when the sounds and the distractions of the day faded away, and she couldn't avoid seeing things a little more clearly, she understood that maybe Matthew was just another way to hide from life. He was safe. He didn't ask much of her. He couldn't hurt her. 

And in those rare moments when she woke up in the middle of the night gasping from a nightmare she couldn't and didn't want to remember, the irony of it all sometimes pressed in on her. She might be able to fool herself, and him, into believing that she had tender feelings for her fiancé, but she knew deep down that marriage to Matthew would be little more than a marriage of convenience.

The irony? That other, earlier union, the one she still fought so hard to put behind her, that she had labeled in her head a 'marriage of convenience', that marriage had been anything but.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica was startled out of her reverie as the car pulled into a circular drive nearly hidden behind a tall hedge and stopped in front of an impressive porticoed mansion.

"We're here, Veronica," Matthew said, putting away the papers he'd been working on, and helping her out of the car.

"I think you'll like Jim Farnsworth," he said as they walked up the brick pathway that led to the front door. "Or at least you'll like his wife, Ginny. She has a way of gathering the most intriguing people for a dinner party."

Veronica grinned in anticipation. Intriguing. Well, that would certainly make a nice change.

Whatever Jim Farnsworth had done to be able to afford such a magnificent house, Veronica appreciated that he was not too self-important to answer his own door.

"Come in, come in," he said. "Meet Ginny's latest crop of interesting finds."

The night was warm and Veronica had no coat, so they were ushered directly into the Farnsworth's vast living room.

"Why don't you make the introductions, Gin?" Farnsworth asked his wife.

There were only seven or eight other people in the room, Veronica noted, looking around the immense space. It was a very large room, indeed, which is why it took her several seconds to survey it, to probe each corner and examine it's length and breadth. 

At the very last, her eyes shifted towards the far end, coming to rest finally on the silhouette of a man standing beside the fireplace, his elbow resting on the mantel, stylishly dressed in unfamiliar clothes. But everything else about him was achingly familiar, from his rangy body to his dark hair to the warm brown eyes that were studying her so intently.

Veronica couldn't move, couldn't speak. Could hardly breathe.

"Hello, Veronica," he said softly, never taking his eyes off her.

"Logan," she said. She found it was all she could say.


	7. Part II - Chapter 2

Part II - Chapter 2

" _Of all the gin joints in all the towns_..." Logan wasn't sure it really fit, but he loved his movie quotations so he figured he could make it work.

The _Casablanca_ parallel wasn't perfect, of course. For instance, there hadn't been a girl, no beautiful Ilsa, bravely sacrificing her personal happiness to help the war effort. No, there had only been Dexter Briggs and his gadget. But Logan often wondered where he'd be if Dexter hadn't come into that gin joint at just that particular moment. Often wondered how he would have survived. If he would have survived.

For the first few weeks after Veronica left him, Logan had felt like he was sleepwalking. As if he'd simply forgotten how to live. He slept when he was too tired to stay awake any longer, ate when he felt a gnawing in his stomach, but otherwise, he just...took up space.

At first, he tried to avoid everything that reminded him of her, but it just wasn't possible. She was everywhere he looked, in every room of his house, along the beach where they'd walked for hours, in the flower boxes whose contents had withered and died because what was the point in watering them?

In the beginning, and for a long time afterwards, Logan had wished that he could wither and die, too. Everywhere he'd looked there was pain. He'd lost his child, the one he hadn't even known he'd wanted until it was on its way. And the love of his life had left with scarcely a word. He hadn't the smallest hope that she'd ever return.

But the human spirit is resilient, and the pain gradually began to recede, until one day it became...manageable. And Logan thought that he might want to live after all. He'd considered selling the house, but there didn't seem to be much point. There wasn't a chance that he could ever forget Veronica, or the child that had died, so he thought he might just as well remember them in the place where he'd been so happy.

When Dick finally got home after frittering away six months of his life, he spent weeks trying to coax Logan out of his house to play. He was only partially successful. He managed to coax him exactly two miles down the road, where Logan discovered the Beachside Tavern, an establishment that he had never before set foot inside, but which quickly became his watering hole of choice.

Even though the clientele were mostly working class stiffs with absolutely nothing in common with the 22-year-old multi-millionaire, Logan soon began to waste time there on a regular basis. The bar's usual customers found him a little eccentric, and at first they gave him a wide berth. But that problem resolved itself very satisfactorily once he began every visit by buying a round for the house. A measurable increase in popularity soon followed.

For Logan, the Tavern's main attraction was that its patrons had no earthly idea who he was. He was obviously a stinking rich oddball, but the Tavern had always been the kind of place that accepted oddballs of all stripes.

Like, for instance, Dexter Briggs.

Logan was sitting one night at what had become his usual table, when the door opened with a bang. Standing in the doorway was the nerdiest-looking guy that Logan had ever seen. And he was soaking wet. Which was odd, because it had finally stopped raining in Southern California.

"The goddamned Pacific Ocean is fucking cold!" the newcomer announced to the room in general.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan Echolls was amused.

"So do you often swim in," he paused to take a closer look at the man's sodden attire, "a business suit? Because unless that suit is made of some kind of miracle fabric, I think it's pretty much trashed."

The man moved further into the room, and Logan could see that he was shivering. Logan thought suddenly that this looked like someone who might be even more pathetic than he was.

"Hey, man," he said, "why don't you sit down here and we'll see about drying you off a little?"

"Hey, Jack," Logan called out to the bartender, "you got any kind of towels around here?"

The barkeep eyed the newcomer balefully, watching as he dripped seawater all over the hardwood floor, but he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the large tip that he knew would be coming his way from Logan at closing. He fished out a half dozen bar rags from beneath the counter and tossed them over.

Logan pushed a chair out with his foot and said again, "Sit."

The newcomer blinked once, twice, and finally heaved himself into the chair. Logan pushed the bar rags in his direction, nodding that he should use them. The man picked up the top one and began to wipe off his face and hair.

"Now why don't you tell me what you were doing in the Pacific Ocean, in the middle of February, at," Logan glanced at his wrist, "eleven o'clock at night?" He smile slightly. "Wearing a suit."

The man set down the rag, looking a little chagrined. "It was stupid."

"Well, that part's obvious. But what was your particular brand of stupidity?"

"I was going to...kill myself."

"And what stopped you?" Logan asked. Considering his mother's unhappy end, Logan wondered why he didn't find this conversation more upsetting.

"It was too cold," came the response.

And suddenly, the two of them were laughing at the absurdity of the situation as the man picked up another rag and began again to dry himself off. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good laugh. Or any laugh at all.

The man suddenly stuck out his hand. "Dexter Briggs," he said.

Logan took his hand, shook it, and offered, "I'm Logan. Why don't you tell me the rest?"

Dexter shook his head ruefully. "It's all about this," he said, taking off his sodden suit coat. From the inside pocket, he pulled out an object, and began to unwrap it from the multiple layers of plastic surrounding it. "I hope I haven't ruined it."

"What is it?" Logan asked.

"It's a tricorder." Dexter looked up at him defensively, as though expecting his next remark.

"A...tricorder? Like...in Star Trek?"

"Why does everyone ask that?" Dexter whined.

Logan didn't even attempt a response to that. "So what does this have to do with your midnight swim in the Pacific?" he asked.

Dexter sighed. "Okay," he said, "here's my pathetic story. Of course I know that a...tricorder is a fictional device. I just called it that while I was working on it. Because there is no name for this thing."

He looked to make sure that Logan was still paying attention.

"I've been working on this for years. Well, ever since I graduated from MIT. It's a medical diagnostic tool. It can be used to detect 15 different diseases, reads body temperature, blood pressure, pulse rate, and oxygen levels. All without ever touching the patient."

He looked up then, searching for a reaction.

Logan looked skeptical and intrigued all at the same time.

"And this...device...really works?"

"Oh, yeah," Dexter said. "It works. Five different pharmaceutical companies have tested it and agree that it works."

"Well, then," Logan was perplexed. "Seems like it would be kind of useful. Like maybe someone should start making them."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" Dexter said. "And maybe I'm being selfish, but dammit! I spent so long creating this and I want to see it through." He paused at the deepening confusion on Logan's face.

Dexter sighed. "They all want the device. They've all been working furiously on their own versions, but they haven't been able to..."

He looked up at Logan. "I'm a selfish prick. I know it. But they just want to buy my patent and make the thing themselves. I know I should let them." He laughed at himself. "That's why I had it wrapped up in plastic. I figured they'd find it and use it after I was...gone."

Logan stared at Dexter for a moment. "You know you're nuts, right? Your body could have ended up anywhere. And that...thing would probably have been ruined."

He looked thoughtful. "So they all looked at it and wanted it, but didn't want you along with it. Is that it?" Dexter nodded.

Logan suddenly realized that for the past hour, while he'd listened to Dexter Briggs and speculated on whether his fantastic device could possibly work, he hadn't once thought about Veronica or their baby, or about how empty his life was. He'd been interested, engaged, even intrigued.

What the hell? he thought. It's better than sitting in this bar every night waiting to have a life. And what the fuck else do I have to do with my money?

"Okay," Logan said to a disbelieving Dexter Briggs. "What do you say we go make a whole lot of these things?"

He paused. "But first, let's change the fucking name."

xxxxxxxx

Logan gave the still-soaking Dexter a ride back to his motel and extracted a promise from him that he wouldn't leave Neptune until he'd heard from Logan. Dexter's face said he wasn't sure if this was on the level, but he was desperate enough to take the chance.

The next day, Logan put in a call to a surprised Keith Mars.

"Logan," he said, his tone uncertain. "How have you been?"

"Relax, Keith," he said. "This call has nothing to do with...her."

"No? Well, okay, then. What can I do for you?"

"I want to hire you. I've run into a little...business opportunity, but I need to have someone checked out before I decide whether or not to invest."

Logan gave Keith the particulars and asked for a complete rundown on Dexter Briggs as fast as he could get it done.

"What's the rush?"

"I don't know, Keith. I just have a feeling about this project, like it's something I'm meant to do. Hell, I've been sitting around feeling sorry for myself for months now, and I can't do that for the rest of my life. So, yeah, quick as you can."

"Logan..." Keith paused. "How are you...really?"

"I've been...better."

"Yeah," Keith said, just before he hung up. "Haven't we all?"

Logan was even more reluctant to make the next call, but he felt like he needed some technical advice and he knew this was his quickest option.

Mac's voice was wary when she answered. "Logan. This is a...surprise."

"Don't worry, Mac," he hastened to reassure her. "I've already figured out that...Veronica is probably with you...but that's not why I called."

"No?" Her voice was noncommittal as she waited for his explanation.

"No. I'm calling because you're the only computer genius I know."

Mac laughed. "Genius may be overstating it just a little. How can I help?"

As Logan told his tale to Mac, he realized how very odd it must sound. Guy in a bar, covered with sea water. Pulls miracle gadget out of his pocket. He began to feel more and more like a fool and his voice started to trail off. But then...

"Oh, my god!" Mac's voice practically exploded into the phone, as she barely waited for him to finish. "I just read about some bio-medical engineers who were trying to create something like this, and now you say you've actually seen a prototype?"

"Well, if it works...how can I find out if it's the real deal?"

"This one would be fairly easy because the end user is any kind of medical professional. Do you know someone you can trust to evaluate something like this?"

"I'll find one. Thanks. It's good to know I can still spot a whack job. And let's just keep this between us for now."

"Of course," she said. Then hurriedly, before he could hang up, "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"How are...are you okay?" She sounded almost afraid to hear his answer.

Logan huffed a small laugh. "Everyone wants to know the answer to that question today, Mac. Including me."

He tried to give her an honest answer. "I'm...better than I was a couple of months ago, but not as good as I'd like to be."

Logan paused.

"And, Mac? Please don't tell her I called."

xxxxxxxx

Keith's investigation found that Dexter C. Briggs, MIT class of 2006, BS summa cum laude in Bio-Medical Engineering, was exactly who he claimed to be. Keith also had a contact in the medical field who agreed to test the prototype. And who afterwards wanted to know where he could buy one. A quick call to Cliff McCormack, and Logan was directed to a patent attorney who could ensure that the patent was securely in Briggs's hands.

Dexter moved into the beach house, and the two of them spent the next several months working on a business plan. Once assured that any further desperate nighttime forays into the cold Pacific waters would be unnecessary, Dexter threw himself into the project. He'd been thinking about it for years and had already worked out any technical problems in his head.

It proved to be just the distraction Logan needed, and he was surprised by how quickly it all came together. Manufacture, cost analysis, marketing, all were eventually checked off in his business plan. Since the device never actually came into contact with the patient, they were able to avoid many of the usual delays in the manufacture and marketing of medical equipment.

By late summer, they were ready to launch their product, and by end of the year, the Briggs Digital Diagnostic Device - or 3D - was an unqualified success and was soon in demand by medical professionals everywhere. Dexter moved out of Logan's and into the home he was able to buy with his first profits.

Logan gradually eased out of direct involvement with the company, preferring to remain a silent partner. When they toasted their success at their regular table at the Beachside Tavern and Dexter tried to express his gratitude, Logan told him quite truthfully that he was the one whose life had been saved the night they'd met.

"So what will you do now?" Dexter wanted to know.

"I'm going to look for my next adventure," Logan said. The next day, in a stuffy lawyer's office in LA, Logan Echolls Adventures, Inc, or LEA, was born.

xxxxxxxx

It was Dick who found Logan his next adventure, and at first, Dick wasn't very happy about it.

"I can't believe you're finally done with all that business shit so you have time to come surfing with me," Dick said as they carried their boards across the sand to a favorite spot.

"You know, Dick, most people would probably see 'that business shit' as earning a living."

Dick stopped in his tracks and looked at Logan like he was crazy.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dick said. "Why the hell do you need to earn a living? You were already richer than god before you got hooked up with Mr. Nerdypants and now you could probably buy and sell half of Neptune."

Dick's voice showed his bewilderment. "But you never just, I don't know... just play anymore. And now you got this new company. What's it called again...Leo?"

"LEA," Logan said, smirking. "Aw, is little Dickie getting bored all by himself?"

"Shut the hell up! I got all kinds of surfing buddies," he said, looking down the beach. "And there's one now!"

Dick started running across the sand. "Hey, Kyle, dude, where the fuck you been?"

Kyle turned when he heard his name.

"Hey, you still got that new kind of surfboard you designed? I want to show my buddy, Logan, here."

"Hey," he said, turning back toward Logan, "you're not going to believe this board Kyle made. He let me try it and it's sweeeet!"

"Yeah?" said Logan, shaking Kyle's hand. "Let me see this thing that's got Dick more excited than the last three women he dated."

Logan looked at the new board, and later on he tried it out. Then he had a question for Kyle.

"How would you like to make a lot of money?" he asked as they were having a beer at the Tavern.

Dick heard the question, looked at the expression on Logan's face, and immediately said, "No, no, no. No fucking way!"

But it was too late. Logan had found his next adventure, the first since he'd formed LEA. But this time, since it involved a surfboard and not some crazy-ass sci fi thingie, Dick not only got used to the fact that Logan was doing that 'earning a living' thing again, he eventually got involved himself.

After talking it over with Kyle, it was clear to Logan that the creation of custom surfboards would necessarily be a small, craftsman type of operation. He wrote up a business plan with that in mind, tailoring the manufacture and the marketing to an upscale surf shop that they would open once he found the right location.

Kyle already had a 'regular' job as a teacher that he didn't want to give up, and Logan didn't want to be tied down to the operation indefinitely. So six months later, to his everlasting amazement, Dick Casablancas found himself 'earning a living' as the proprietor and part-owner of _Surf's Up_ , the trendiest new surf shop in Southern California.

After that, other LEA projects seemed to appear serendipitously, so that just as Logan would find himself done with one adventure, another would appear on the horizon. He couldn't say that life was good...but it wasn't terrible, either.

xxxxxxxx

LEA had been in operation for a couple of years when an adventure was brought to him by two very old acquaintances. Having either Wallace Fennel or Weevil Navarro appear at his door would have been surprising enough. Having them appear together was downright surreal. He hadn't seen either one since his graduation from Hearst three years earlier.

"Wallace," he said, "and Weevs." He looked them both over carefully. "This is, uh, more than a surprise. Are you sure you knew that this was my house?"

"Yeah, Echolls, we knew." Weevil turned to Wallace and said grimly. "This was a bad idea. Come on, Fennel, let's go." The former biker turned to leave, but Wallace grabbed his arm to hold him in place.

"Whoa there, homeboy, we can't leave without at least tryin' to get what we came for."

Wallace turned back to Logan with an apology and a look of determination.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this, but it was tough enough gettin' Keith Mars to give up your address. We weren't about to push our luck tryin' to get your number off him, too."

"Keith sent you here?" Logan was more and more baffled.

"Sent? Not so much. Look," Wallace was conciliatory, "I know we haven't exactly been your biggest fans, but something's come up and we're kinda out of options, so here we are."

"Right. You and Weevil are here. Together." Logan considered, and curiosity won out. "Anything that can bring you both to my doorstep, together, asking for my help, well, this I gotta hear." He opened the door wider. "Come on in."

Logan grabbed some beers out of the fridge and led them through the house to the back deck, where he'd installed a patio table and some chairs. "Have a seat," he said.

They all sat in silence for a moment, until Wallace finally cleared his throat.

"I hear you sometimes make investments in new, uh, technology. Stuff that maybe no one else is interested in, uh, funding." Wallace paused as if waiting for confirmation, but Logan just continued to suck on the micro-brew in his hand.

Wallace waited a few more moments before he inhaled deeply and said, "It's about helmets."

"Helmets?"

"Yeah, rich boy, helmets!" Weevil broke in. "You know, the headgear that's supposed to keep bad things from happenin' when kids play football. Except the ones they use at Neptune are pieces of shit! Not that the school board gives a damn. They ain't never gonna get better ones since there ain't no 09ers playin' football."

Logan thought that Weevil's hostility seemed to stem from something personal.

Glancing with concern at Weevil, Wallace looked back at Logan and explained. "Weevil's cousin got hurt a couple of weeks ago playing for Neptune." He paused. "Kid's still in a coma." He sighed. "Diego's a great student, and a football scholarship woulda been his way out."

Logan turned toward Weevil and nodded, but he had a faraway look in his eyes. "Sorry, Weevs," he said. "That really sucks."

Weevil was taken aback. He hadn't expected sympathy. He especially hadn't expected sincere sympathy.

"So," Logan thought he was starting to get the picture, "you want me to donate the money so Neptune High can buy the football team sturdier helmets? Is that it? Because that can probably be arranged."

This time, both Wallace and Weevil were surprised by Logan's willingness to help.

"It's not quite that easy," Wallace said. "The thing is, there are no better helmets, at least we can't find anything out there that's any safer."

At last Logan understood - or thought he did. "But you've come up with a better product?"

Wallace gave Logan a crooked little grin. "Not me," he said. "A guy I knew when I was still studying mechanical engineering at Hearst, before I changed my major to education. Greg Carter. Hell, the guy was a genius even then."

Wallace shook his head, remembering just how frustrating it had been trying to keep up with students like Greg. Thank god he'd changed his major because he loved teaching and he'd never been sorry that he'd taken a different career path.

He continued. "Anyway, Greg and I, we've kinda been keepin' up, and he called me right after Diego got hurt. He'd read about it and wanted me to know that he'd been workin' on the helmet problem for a while now, and he'd figured somethin' out, had the design for a brand new helmet already drawn up. Said I should see it. His helmet was gonna be stronger than the old ones, but still lightweight enough to be practical. Problem is, he can't get any of the sporting goods companies to even take his calls."

Wallace paused. "Then I was havin' dinner with Mr. Mars and, well, he told me you had this...company...where you sometimes invest in things that interest you..." His voice trailed away as he eyed Logan.

Logan's adventures had made him a lot of money over the past few years, money he didn't really need. But this one, he thought, this one was going to bring him a different kind of reward. He picked up his beer bottle and clinked it lightly against his guests' bottles.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you've come to the right place."

Logan was right about one thing. Of all the projects that LEA had funded, this one was by far the most rewarding. It took several months to complete the prototype, and Logan asked Dexter Briggs, bio-medical engineer, to consult. Within a year, the improved helmets were standard equipment in almost every school in the state. LEA donated the helmets to the Neptune High School football team.

Diego Navarro eventually regained consciousness and made a nearly full recovery, but he would never play football again. The dream of a football scholarship was over, but when he graduated a year later, Diego was the first recipient of the newly-created Learning is an Adventure Scholarship, and the first member of the Navarro family ever to attend college.

Weevil Navarro never again referred to Logan Echolls as "rich boy," or "white boy," or indeed, any kind of boy at all.

The first year that the helmets were used by the football team in the San Francisco suburb of Sausalito, a very promising player named Jamie Farnsworth was hurt during an exciting post-season game. The doctors told Jamie's parents that if he hadn't been wearing the new-style helmet, he'd very likely have had a serious head injury rather than just a bad headache.

Jamie's parents, Jim and Ginny Farnsworth, had enough money and enough clout to find out not only the name of the company that made the helmets, but also who was the man behind the curtain. They wanted to meet Logan Echolls, but were told that he liked his privacy. Some time later, Logan received a letter from the Farnsworths acknowledging a perceived debt of gratitude. "Any time, any place," it said. Logan was touched and kept the letter.

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Four years after the surf shop opened, business was so good that a group of San Francisco investors approached Logan through his attorneys with a proposition to franchise a Marin County branch of Surf's Up.  A meeting had been set up at which Kyle was slated to represent LEA, but at the last minute he was required to attend a teacher conference instead.

"Dude!" Dick was perplexed when Kyle told him. "Why the hell are you still putting up with those snot-nosed brats every day? I know you earn enough from this place that you could quit."

Kyle chuckled and clapped Dick on the shoulder.

"I like teaching, Dick. I don't want to quit. Besides, you can go to San Fran in my place."

"Me?" Dick was dumbfounded. Kyle wanted to send him to a meeting with lawyers and shit? "Uh, Logan will never go for that."

"Hey, man," Kyle said, "it was his idea. So go pack a bag and I'll give you all the details."

Dick couldn't have known that there was a reason that Logan wanted to avoid the San Francisco area, and that he considered sending Dick just slightly better than sending no one at all. No, Dick took it as a vote of confidence in him, and vowed to himself not to screw up.

But Dick was still Dick, and responsibility was not his middle name, so it wasn't surprising that he was rushing toward the doorway of a downtown office building, late as usual, when he suddenly stopped still right in the middle of the crowded San Francisco sidewalk.

It couldn't be, he thought. And yet it most definitely was.

"Ronnie!" he yelled, and a familiar blond head turned around, staring wide-eyed when she saw who'd called her name. The only one it could have been, really, who would call her by that name.

"Dick," she said, a faint edge of panic in her tone. "What are you doing in San Francisco?"

"Hey," he said, somewhat exasperated. "Good to see you, too. Uh, Logan sent me up here because he couldn't come himself. Too busy."

"Logan," she said, her voice so faint he could hardly hear her. She cleared her throat. "How is Logan?" she asked.

"Oh, he's always so damned busy with LEA that I hardly get to see him," Dick grumbled.

"With...Leah?" Dick nodded, confirming. "Oh," she continued, her voice wooden, "I hadn't heard anything about Leah."

"Yeah, coming up on the four-year anniversary..."

"Look, I really have to go," Veronica broke in on his ramblings. She pivoted away, but then turned back briefly. "No need to tell Logan you ran into me, Dick," she said.

"If you say so, Ronnie," but he was already talking to her swiftly retreating back.

No problem there, Dick thought. Why should he mention seeing Ronnie to Logan, anyway? As far as he knew, they hadn't seen each other since the middle of senior year at Hearst. And the last thing he wanted for his best friend was to see him hurt all over again.

Dick hurried into his meeting and promptly forgot all about running into Veronica Mars.

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Five years, Logan thought. Five years since he'd created LEA, and nearly six since Veronica had left him. In many ways, it was hard to believe it had been that long, but in others, it seemed a lifetime ago. He considered that he'd built a pretty good life for himself. He had Dick, and Kyle, and Dexter. And, in one of those strange ironic twists that life sometimes throws at you, after they'd worked on the safety helmet project together he'd been able to reconnect with both Wallace and Weevil in a way that he never would have believed possible. Maybe they'd all changed, grown up enough to just let go of all that old shit.

He grinned to himself. Weevil called him "Logan" now when they played poker or went out for a beer. But somehow, he just hadn't been able to switch to "Eli." Nope. Weevil would somehow always be just Weevil.

Of course Weevil had a wife now. Logan had gone to the wedding. And Wallace? He had a girlfriend, and things had looked pretty serious the last time they'd all been together. But for Logan, after six years he was beginning to think that there was only ever going to be one woman that he could really love, and she'd slipped away forever.

Not that there hadn't been any women. There'd been plenty of women, but they'd all had a "sell-by" date.

After Veronica left, it had been months before he'd even been able to think about being with another woman, even just physically. Then another six months where the only thing he'd wanted was a quick fuck and an even quicker goodbye. After a year, he'd finally begun to date casually, and then more than casually, but the relationships had never lasted more than a few months. Just long enough for the women to find out that he wasn't interested in anything long term. That he wasn't looking for a wife.

He could usually see the signs. They'd want to redecorate his house, or redo his wardrobe. Bring him potted plants. His current girlfriend, a party planner named Sabrina Colbert, had engaged in none of these activities so far. But after four months of semi-casual dating, he knew it probably wouldn't be long.

Tonight they were going to a party at Dick's house, which was either a short drive or a long walk down the beach. Logan thought he'd take the car tonight. That way, he could take Sabrina home without ever coming back to his place. He didn't feel like overnight company, and sometimes Sabrina wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

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As she sat in Dick Casablancas's plush living room, gulping a vodka tonic, Madison Sinclair wondered why the hell she'd even bothered to come. She'd run into Dick as she was leaving work, a dead-end job as an "associate" in a boutique where she used to shop when she was in high school.

Things had not gone well for Madison of late. Her modeling career had never really taken off and she'd been forced to take a series of what she thought of as menial jobs to support herself. Her parents had unenthusiastically allowed her move back in with them, but they wouldn't pay for her clothes or her makeup or any of her personal expenses. Madison sniffed. Of course that was still better than living in a dumpy apartment that wasn't even in the 09 zip code.

Nothing had seemed to work out with the men in her life, either. She'd lived in LA for a couple of years while she was trying to get modeling work, and she'd made some bad...choices there. But even after she'd returned to Neptune, nothing seemed to pan out. Her most recent lover had turned out to be married, a fact Madison had found out only by listening to her gut and following him home one night. She'd seen the silhouette of the wife - and the kids - in the window.

So when she'd run into Dick - sometimes she could hardly believe that blockhead had been her first boyfriend - and he'd told her about the party, she'd decided to come. At least there was plenty of booze, she thought, as she sat on Dick's couch downing her third vodka tonic and wondering if anyone even remotely interesting was going to show up.

She sat up a little when Logan Echolls walked in the door, but her interest faded immediately when she saw that he had a girl with him. Madison looked her over critically. Tall, slender, dark hair cut expensively in a chic bob. She watched as the girl clung to him possessively, and her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

Although she'd been happy to see him here, if only for the sheer novelty, Madison knew that she didn't have a chance in hell of ever attracting the interest of Logan Echolls. And as long as she was in this alcohol-induced state of honest self-reflection, she might as well admit to herself that she probably never had. She watched now as the latest wannabe simpered at him, and at the look he returned. Pleasant, attentive, detached.

Madison chuckled to herself. The only difference between me sitting over here on this couch and the current hopeful over there clinging to his arm is that I already know damned well that Logan Echolls is never going to belong to me and she just hasn't figured it out yet.

Madison thought back to that day at the mall, when she'd run into Logan with the only girl she'd ever seen his face light up for, and remembered those enticing glimpses of metal on their fingers. She hadn't thought about that day in years, but now she wondered all over again.

At that moment, Logan looked over at her and nodded coldly, while his companion glanced at her speculatively. Madison raised her glass and saluted them, before finishing off her drink and going back to the bar to make another. She decided that this had better be her last or she'd never make it home, and there was certainly nothing keeping her here, other than sheer boredom.

When she returned to her spot at the end of the couch, she found it already occupied by Logan's date. Madison looked at her quizzically before sitting down next to her.

"Sabrina Colbert," the girl said quickly, holding out her hand. Madison looked at that hand for a fraction of a second before ignoring it, nodding at the glass held by both her hands, and allowing, "Madison Sinclair."

Sabrina pulled her hand back, narrowed her eyes, and said, "Yes, I know. Logan told me who you were. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Madison masked her very natural curiosity, maintaining her focus on the drink in her hands.

"You see, I've heard that you caused problems for Logan in the past when he was dating some other woman," Sabrina continued.

Madison's head came up. "Who did you hear that from?" She wondered which of her 09er "friends" had been trash-talking about her.

"It doesn't matter," Sabrina said. "What matters is that I'm letting you know not to try that with me."

"Not to try that with..." Madison threw back her head and let the laughter rip out of her. "Just what is it that you think I might get in the way of? Do you really imagine that you have some kind of future with Logan Echolls?"

Madison cradled her drink in her hands and looked at Sabrina Colbert with pity.

"You're never going to land Logan, and if you think you might then you're delusional. The only woman he ever really gave a fuck about is the one he married," she sneered.

"Married! He's never been married," Sabrina insisted, but Madison could see the uncertainty blossom in her eyes as she got up and walked away. "Just stay the hell away from him!" was her parting shot.

"Well, well," Madison muttered as she swallowed the rest of her drink. "Bet that's going to keep you up all night."

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Married! He never said he'd been married. That hag was lying. Of course she was. This is what she does. This is what they were talking about. I don't want to ask around. I'll just look like a fool if it's true and I didn't already know. But of course it isn't....

But...maybe I should have Daddy check into it. I mean, lawyers can find out about shit like that, right? Then afterwards I'll tell Logan how she tried to break us up, and we can have a good laugh together.

I've been wondering how to bring up the "M" word, anyway. It's about time I got some kind of commitment.

Sabrina looked down at her left hand, imagining the huge rock that she was sure was in her immediate future, and smiled.

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It was three nights later that Sabrina showed up at Logan's house with fire in her eyes. He was surprised, because he was pretty damn sure he hadn't invited her.

"You son of a bitch!" she flung at him as soon as he opened the door. "Do you think you can treat me like I'm some bimbo? Make a fool of me?"

Her hand came up then, as though she were going to slap his face, but he was too fast for her, grabbing her wrist.

"Calm down, Sabrina," he said, holding her in place with both hands. "Now what the hell are you so worked up about?"

"Your marriage." She spit it out at him, and suddenly Logan felt like he couldn't breathe.

"How is that any of your business?" he'd dropped her arms then, and if Sabrina had known him as well as she thought she did, she might have been afraid of the expression in his eyes.

She was taken aback. "You think it's none of my business that my boyfriend is a married man?"

Logan could hardly get the words out, but since this was going to be the last time he would ever see this woman, he wanted this over and done with.

"Not is married. Was married. It was a brief marriage a long time ago, it ended in divorce, and yeah, it's none of your fucking business!"

He wanted her out, he wanted her gone, he wanted to shut the door on this painful conversation.

But Sabrina's expression had turned nasty now. "And now you're lying to my face! There was a marriage, but there was never a divorce. I had my dad look it up in the court records. You just conveniently forgot to tell me that you were still married to Victoria or Veronica or whatever the hell her name is!"

"Shut up!" he roared. "You don't say her name! You don't even think her name!" Logan could feel himself losing control.

She suddenly caught sight of his face, and all the anger drained out of Sabrina. "My god," she said, "she was right, wasn't she? Madison was right."

"Madison?" Logan's head was spinning and he felt like he'd entered some alternate universe.

"Madison. From the party the other night. She's the one who told me you were married." Sabrina paused and shook her head. "You know what? You're pathetic. You can pine away for your dream girl all you want. Just leave me out if it."

Sabrina turned and moved quickly down the walk, but for a moment Logan was rooted to the spot. He finally closed the door and wandered back to the book he'd been reading, but there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to be able to read. Or eat. Or sleep. Or do fuck all until he found out if it was true.

Was it possible that he might still be married to Veronica?

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Cliff McCormack was surprised to see Logan standing outside his office when he arrived the next morning.

"Hey, kid," Cliff said, unlocking the door and ushering him in. "I haven't seen you in a while. Is there something I can do for you or is this just a social call?"

Cliff moved to the seat behind his desk but Logan remained standing by the door, silent.

"You're starting to scare me, Logan," Cliff said, "so why don't you just spit it out?"

Logan opened his mouth, but at first no words came out. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and tried again.

"Is there any chance...could it even be remotely possible that...Veronica and I are...still married?"

He'd gotten his question out, but just the asking of it seemed to have taken everything out of him, and he moved across the office and sank heavily into the chair across from Cliff.

Cliff was silent for a moment, a perplexed look on his face.

"Logan," he said finally, "where is this coming from? It's been almost," his eyes flickered and Logan could see him calculating, "six years."

Logan's face was devoid of expression. "It's just something...someone said to me. I looked through all my personal papers last night, but I couldn't find a divorce decree. I don't remember ever getting one, but that doesn't mean anything. I don't really remember much from those first few months after..."

Cliff sighed. "Yes, as I recall, you were paying close attention to your friends Jack, Jim and Jose, and not much else."

He got up quickly and made his way to some filing cabinets that were set along the far wall. "With the wonders of modern technology we can get this information online these days, but why don't I just make you a copy from my original?"

Cliff unlocked and opened the drawer marked "D-F," and began searching for the correct folder. "Here it is...Echolls..." When he opened the folder his brow puckered in confusion.

"Perhaps we should take advantage of those 21st century shortcuts after all," he said, replacing the file and returning to his desk to switch on his computer.

It took a minute to log into the Balboa County website and find the legal records section, and another minute to find "Echolls, Logan." But it took only seconds to determine that while there was a record of the marriage between Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars, there was no record that that marriage had ever been dissolved.

Cliff switched to the "M" section, and ran through the entire process again using Veronica's name, only to find the same results. He logged out of the site, sat back in his chair, and looked blankly at Logan.

"So...you can't find a record of the divorce?" Logan asked, shaking his head. "I don't get it. I signed those papers, and I saw that Veronica had already signed... I'll never forget that day." He looked up at Cliff. "It was the most miserable day of my life and it was raining like hell. Suited my mood to a T."

"Raining. Of course," Cliff said, his eyes drifting in memory. "It was the day of the floods, I had an appointment...and I asked my secretary to bring the documents to the courthouse." He looked at Logan. "But she did that for me all the time. It was part of her job."

"Then let's ask her about it," Logan suggested. "What time does she get in?" He turned his head in the direction of the outer office.

"Can't," Cliff replied. "That was Betty. She quit a couple of years later. Got married. Moved to Fresno,"

He thought for a minute. "I don't have anything going on today that can't wait. Let me go downtown and check everything out in person. I'll call you this afternoon."

And for the moment, Logan had to be satisfied with that.

But Cliff didn't call. Instead, he appeared in person that afternoon, and as soon as Logan opened the door and saw Cliff's face, he knew that his ordered life was about to get turned upside down.


	8. Part II - Chapter 3

Part II - Chapter 3

As soon as he saw Cliff McCormack standing on his doorstep, Logan knew that Cliff's visit to the county records office had not gone as expected. 

"Would you happen to have any of that Jack or Jim or Jose handy?" Cliff asked, as he followed Logan into the house.

"How about a beer?" Logan countered, opening the refrigerator and extracting two brews.

"I suppose it will have to do," Cliff responded.

And for the first time since he'd met Cliff more than a decade earlier under less than ideal circumstances, Logan heard a hint of stress in his normally unruffled tones. 

They sat out on the patio enjoying the warmth of a rare sunny day, a short break from the grayness that often dominated the weather in Southern California during the month of May. Logan waited with as much composure as he could muster while he watched Cliff fuss with his beer bottle.

"Cliff," he said finally, his patience wearing thin, "let's pretend that I'm a grown-up and can deal with whatever it is you're trying so hard not to tell me."

Cliff sighed. "I guess I deserved that," he said. "You know, k-, uh, Logan, it's possible that I may have occasionally skirted around the edges of standard legal practice, maybe split some hairs a little too finely to be what some people might consider strictly ethical..." 

Logan's brow wrinkled as he interjected, "You're speaking to someone who's not exactly held the moral high ground in every situation, Cliff, so why don't you just let me have it?"

"Yeah, well...this was nothing like that. What I've never done is to give my clients less than my best. But you...and Veronica...I let you down."

"In what way?" Logan asked quietly.

"Your divorce agreement was never recorded." Cliff sighed and shook his head, baffled. "No other document that I gave to Betty, or to any of my other secretaries ever failed to make it to the court. Why this one didn't get there, I just don't know."

"How do you know?" Logan asked. "I mean, how do you know that all the other papers and documents got where they were supposed to go?"

"Ah. And this is where I screwed up. Normally, I have a tickler file for things like that. The court records documents, keeps a copy online, and mails back the original. I have the tickler so I can keep track, confirm that the original documents are returned to me." He looked at Logan to make sure he understood.

Logan nodded. "But this particular document never came back and you didn't notice because...?"

Cliff shook his head again. "This certainly doesn't excuse my carelessness, but it was the flood. By the time I got in the next morning, I had water halfway up those file cabinets you saw in my office. Everything inside them was okay, but everything else was a disaster. It took me weeks to get the office back in order, and by the time I did..."

"You'd forgotten all about the divorce agreement for those two crazy kids."

Cliff looked as distressed as Logan had ever seen him. 

"Logan, I'm sorry," he said. "I had a legal duty to make sure that agreement was filed with the court and I neglected to carry out that duty. You'd have every right to report me to the California Bar."

"Well, that's not going to happen, Cliff, so let's focus on the real problem here."

"I appreciate the clemency, Logan, but I think Veronica might not be so understanding."

"Why do you say that? She's known you since she was a kid. I mean, it was a mistake, but now we'll get it fixed, right?" Logan felt like he was missing something.

"If it were only that simple," Cliff said. "I'm afraid there are a couple of complications that I haven't yet shared with you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, well when we created the original agreement, you'd been married only about 3 months, and even with your considerable wealth, there hadn't been time to accumulate much community property. But since that divorce agreement was never filed, you and Veronica have now been legally married for almost 6 years, and a divorce might trigger some property issues."

Logan just nodded. "You know I don't care about that, Cliff. I'd be happy to share everything I have with Veronica," he said quietly.

"And you've already shared quite a bit with Stanford Law School. Which will all be taken into account."

Cliff stopped to finish his beer, but it was clear to Logan that he still had something on his mind.

"And..." Cliff began.

"And...what?"

"Logan...Keith just told me a couple of weeks ago that Veronica is engaged to be married."

Cliff watched as everything Logan was feeling flitted across his face. Surprise, pain, and finally, resignation. Damn, he thought, the kid's still in love with her.

Logan nodded again and asked calmly. "Is there a...wedding already planned?"

"No, she's only been engaged a short while, so..." Cliff shrugged.

"Do you...do you know this guy? Does Keith know him well?"

Cliff could see the concern in Logan's eyes.

"I'd never heard anything about him until Keith told me about the engagement. I think he's met the guy maybe two or three times."

Logan's eyes widened in surprise. "Who is he?"

"Name's Matthew Garcia. Apparently, he's a big shot lawyer in San Francisco." He paused, looked at Logan carefully. "You knew that Veronica..."

"You haven't given away any secrets, Cliff," he said. "I know that she's living in San Francisco, working in the DA's office. Seems fitting, somehow." His hand moved with a flourish as he wrote his imaginary headline in the air. "Veronica Mars, making lowlifes pay, one evildoer at a time." 

He grinned suddenly. "Can you really imagine her working for one of those huge law firms, having to kowtow to people like me?"

Cliff eyed him thoughtfully. "I can't. And wasn't she fortunate that she didn't have to consider how low her salary would be compared to what she could be making at one of those big law firms? She could afford to take that job with the DA because she didn't have a mountain of debt when she finished law school."

Logan shrugged. "She deserved that, Cliff. I just wanted to take the pressure off, so that for once there'd be something in her life that she didn't have to worry about."

Cliff nodded his understanding. His news delivered, he got up to leave. "So I'll get in touch with Veronica..."

"No," Logan said.

Cliff stopped in his tracks. "No...?"

"I'm going to San Francisco, Cliff. I...want to tell her myself. And...I want to meet this guy she's...thinking of marrying. Make sure...just...make sure."

Cliff's face was a strange mixture of skeptical and sympathetic. "Do you really think that's a good idea, Logan? She may not have a very...positive reaction to the news."

Logan laughed. "Oh, she'll probably be pissed as hell. But I think it'll be okay, Cliff. It's been six years, and I'm pretty sure I can handle seeing Veronica again."

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Logan had eventually convinced Cliff that it wasn't a terrible idea for him to personally deliver to Veronica the news that they were still married. That he and Veronica could have a rational conversation. That it wouldn't all blow up in his face. 

Now he just had to believe it himself.

Logan sighed, letting his mind go to a place where he didn't allow it too often: thinking about Veronica. He knew that another man might have let his anger and disappointment govern how he felt about Veronica after she'd left him so precipitously. But that would never be Logan.

It had taken him a long time and a great deal of introspection to even begin to understand everything that had happened. Not the event itself. He'd never gain enough perspective to understand why they'd had to lose their child in such a cruel way. But the pain he'd felt at that loss had eventually become manageable, a part of who he was, and in the end he'd learned to simply accept it.

No, what he'd finally begun to fathom was the aftermath. How they'd dealt with it. How Veronica had dealt with it. He'd begun to understand how it must have seemed from her point of view. She'd put her heart on the line for this life they were building together, and when the baby died, she'd felt betrayed. Not by Logan, but by herself. 

After everything that had happened to her in high school - and Logan didn't kid himself that he wasn't at least partially to blame for much of it - she had lived her personal life with with one eye on the exit. With one foot out the door. Never all in. Never with the confidence, the certainty, that life would take care of itself, that problems could be worked out, that she could relax and enjoy the things that most people took for granted. Kinship. Loyalty. Contentment. Love.

And then she was suddenly pregnant, and maybe it was the baby, maybe it was the idea that a new life was growing inside her, but somehow she'd found the courage to take that leap of faith with him. She'd walked into his bedroom and climbed into his bed and said: I love you. I want to be with you. I can believe in happily ever after. 

And then the unkind fates had shredded her to pieces.

Somewhere inside him, he knew that he'd never let go of the idea that eventually Veronica would begin to make sense of it, too. And that finally - inevitably - their paths would cross again and they'd have another chance to make it work. 

He'd counted on that chance, because with understanding had also come an inescapable conclusion. For him, Veronica Mars, with her brilliance, and her beauty, and her suspicious, prickly, difficult, sensitive, passionate, loyal, and utterly compelling personality, was simply incomparable. For Logan, there was never going to be anyone else.

So he'd been brought up short by the news of Veronica's engagement. Matthew Garcia. Cliff hadn't said so directly, but his description of a successful San Francisco lawyer conveyed the picture of someone who was a little - or a lot - older than Veronica. He debated with himself but eventually decided to find out what he could through a simple Google search. 

Garcia was a very common Latino surname, so it took Logan a while to sift through the possibilities, but when he found the San Francisco law firm Matthew Garcia and Associates, he knew he'd found his man. The firm's website had a picture of Garcia, and Logan found that his assumptions had been correct. Dark-haired, good-looking, but definitely north of 40.

It was when he'd backed out of that entry and was about to close his laptop that Logan found a link to a short article in the Examiner from just a couple of weeks ago. "Prominent City Lawyer Running for AG."

"Prominent San Francisco attorney Matthew Garcia has announced his candidacy for California Attorney General. While Garcia has never held public office, he is well-known in San Francisco legal circles as the man who made it out of the barrios of East LA to become one of the most successful attorneys in Marin County.

"Everyone loves a rags-to-riches story, and Garcia's is more compelling than most. Raised by his grandmother, Garcia's diligence in school brought him to the attention of his local priest when he was in his early teens. He attended St. John's Preparatory School on a church-sponsored scholarship, and then won scholarships to UCLA and later attended Law School at Berkeley.

"Garcia began his legal career at Cain and Harrison, later Harrison Harrison and Garcia. Five years ago, both Harrisons having left the firm, it was re-named Matthew Garcia and Associates. Garcia's marriage to the former Madeleine Harrison ended about the same time as the law firm changed hands. Garcia has one child, a daughter, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison, 20."

Logan closed his laptop, thinking furiously. Two ideas stood out. The first was that it seemed like this time Veronica had chosen a man who was as different from Logan as she could find. Was that a good part of Garcia's attraction? That he wasn't a white, entitled jackass, living off inherited wealth? Logan hoped that wasn't him any longer, but he knew that at one time that description had fit him to a T.

But it was the other thing that really had him flummoxed. Veronica as a political wife? Attending events with Garcia, playing the "little woman"? Perhaps adapting her life to his? It didn't sound like the Veronica he remembered at all, and it made him wonder. Veronica had had many interests, but politics had never been one of them.

Logan had initially toyed with the idea of approaching Veronica directly, but after reading that article he changed his mind. He wanted to know a lot more about Matthew Garcia before he talked to his...wife.

He briefly considered calling Mac for information, but he rejected that idea almost immediately. Mac had been nothing but kind to him and he refused to put her in the middle. He racked his brain for someone who might be able to help, but Logan lived privately by choice, and his circle of even casual acquaintances was limited.

Privately. That word rang a bell, and he suddenly remembered the Farnsworths in Sausalito. Their son had been hurt playing football and the LEA football helmet had saved him from severe injury. They'd wanted to meet Logan, but he'd had his lawyers tell them he preferred his privacy. 

He'd thought that would be the end of it, but they'd actually written to him. The husband - Jim? - must have a few connections to have even found Logan's address. And they'd written him a letter, rather than simply showing up at his door, so he credited them with a certain amount of sensibility and discretion.

Wasn't Sausalito a suburb of San Francisco?

A quick look through his files and the letter was in his hand, and it was filled with expressions of gratitude, just as he'd remembered. If they could ever do anything for him, they'd said. Any time, any place, they'd said. They'd included their phone number.

Maybe he could grant them their wish.

Logan sighed. He hadn't had to turn on the vaunted Echolls charm in a while, but he knew he'd have to proceed carefully. He needed information but he didn't want to give himself away.

Ginny Farnsworth answered the phone herself. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Ginny? Ginny Farnsworth?"

"Yes?" She was understandably tentative. 

"Uh, this is Logan Echolls. I'm not sure if you remember, but you wrote me a very kind letter a couple of years ago..."

"Is this really Logan Echolls? I was beginning to think you were just a name, that you didn't really exist."

Logan laughed. "Well, the last time I looked in the mirror, I think it was the same old face staring back at me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was a stupid remark, but I just can't believe that you're calling after all this time."

"It has been a while, I know. Uh, how is your son doing? Jamie, isn't it?"

"He's doing great. No more football, of course. We had to put our foot down there. But he's at NYU now, loves New York. Wait till I tell him I actually spoke to Logan Echolls!"

"I'm really happy to hear that, Ginny. I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet with all of you at the time. I...hope you'll forgive me. I've had a few bad experiences over the years with people not being what they seemed. It's made me a little...extra-cautious, wary even. I...wouldn't want you to think it was anything...personal."

Ginny laughed. "We didn't take it personally at all. You're allowed to have your eccentricities, Mr. Echolls. But...it sounds like you may have changed your mind. Did you have a particular reason for calling? Because if there's anything we can do for you, well, our offer still stands."

"It's Logan, Ginny, just Logan. And yes, I did have a reason for calling." He hesitated, wondering how to phrase his request for information.

"I've been reading..." and that was not a lie, "about a lawyer in your area who's a candidate for Attorney General. And I...wondered if you knew him. Matthew Garcia."

Her answer was immediate. "Matthew? Well, of course we know Matthew. In fact, Jim has been thinking of backing his candidacy with more than just his opinion. Is that why you're asking? Are you thinking of becoming a major contributor as well?"

"Uh, well...I'm not really sure."

"Then you certainly must meet Matthew. Jim and I think a lot of him. He's really a remarkable person."

Remarkable? Well, if he'd convinced Veronica to marry him, Logan could believe he had to be extraordinary in some way. He knew he'd missed a few words when he heard Ginny say "...one night next week if you can make it."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he apologized, "What was that again?"

"I said, Jim and I were thinking of having a small dinner party for Matthew. I thought perhaps...well, if you think you could get up this way, we could plan for one night next week. Then you could meet Matthew yourself."

Ginny laughed. "And of course that would give us the chance to meet the elusive Logan Echolls."

Logan could hardly believe his luck. He planned to suspend his elusiveness immediately.

"Let me just check my calendar, Ginny," he said, with an affability that wasn't at all insincere.

xxxxxxxx

Logan hadn't been back to San Francisco since 2010, and he'd briefly wondered how Veronica could live in the same place where they'd suffered such a terrible loss. But then San Francisco was a very large city, and she was unlikely to have occasion to visit San Francisco General Hospital. 

Ginny Farnsworth's dinner party was scheduled for Thursday, so Logan flew up that morning and booked into the St. Regis. He was prepared to face San Francisco, but he doubted he'd ever be able to set foot anywhere near the Four Seasons.

By the time he entered the Farnsworths' Sausalito address into the GPS unit in his rented car that evening, Logan was having second thoughts about this dinner. From the safe distance of his home in Neptune, it had seemed like a good idea to check out Veronica's...fiancé without Garcia knowing who he was. Unless Veronica had told him about Logan, about their marriage. The baby. 

But she wouldn't have. He'd bet his life on it.

He turned the car onto the Golden Gate Bridge and drove across the bay into the trendy suburb of Sausalito. Logan knew he was a little early, but he wanted to be sure that he arrived before Garcia. 

When she'd called to confirm, Ginny had mentioned that Garcia had a fiancée, but that he wouldn't be bringing her, and she'd asked Logan if he'd like to bring a date himself. Or a wife, perhaps? Logan had answered in the negative, but the unintended irony in that question had reminded him once again how delicate the situation really was. 

He probably should be handling it differently, he thought, as he drove through the darkening streets. No, he definitely should be handling it differently. He should have arranged to speak to Veronica directly, not initiated this stealthy glimpse into her personal business. When she found out, and she would, she was bound to be angry.

But he simply couldn't be sorry. As far as he could see, it was kismet that he'd found out that they were still married at just the moment when she was about to marry someone else. They should have been divorced years ago, he'd thought they had been, but somehow they weren't. He was still her husband, and before he relinquished that status, he had every intention of discovering why Veronica had made such an unlikely choice as Matthew Garcia.

Soon he was pulling into the Farnsworths' street, and then into their driveway, and then it was too late to put a halt to the farce that was about to play out. As he turned off the engine and exited the car, he acknowledged to himself that he wouldn't stop it even if he could.

xxxxxxxx

He was the first to arrive, Ginny Farnsworth told him when she opened her door.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Logan," she said, shaking his hand and ushering him into a large living room. 

It wasn't the biggest such room Logan had ever seen. He had, after all, grown up in the Echolls mansion, and had had free rein of the Kane house for many years. But despite its size, this room had a warmth that those houses had never managed to achieve. Logan took a brief look around and a longer look at his hostess's cheerful face, and felt immediately comfortable.

"Well," Ginny said, amused, "do we pass muster?"

Logan was a little chagrined to have been caught so obviously sizing up his surroundings.

"Sorry," he said, his smile genuine. "I don't get out much."

"I find that hard to believe." Ginny responded as the two made themselves comfortable on an enormous couch that had been placed in front of a huge stone fireplace.

"Anyone as young and good-looking as you...and as unattached..." she raised her brows, making it a question, and he nodded, "...surely must be in demand." 

"I've, uh, been concentrating on my business for the last few years," he said. His grin became a smirk. "And I didn't say I was a monk."

Ginny laughed. "I've only known you for five minutes, Logan, but I'm prepared to believe that statement."

They were interrupted then by the appearance of Ginny's husband, a tall hatchet-faced man who seemed to tower over Logan as he stood to greet his host.

"You're a lot younger than I expected, Logan," Jim Farnsworth said, shaking his hand. "But then everyone's beginning to look young these days."

"Tell me," he continued, "how did you hear about Matthew Garcia way down there in Neptune? I thought most of you folks in SoCal thought that everything north of LA was wilderness."

Logan laughed, because in many ways, Jim wasn't far off the mark. "I think I must have read about his...amazing rise from humble beginnings. A regular Horatio Alger story." Logan hoped the Farnsworths missed the sardonic note he was unable to keep out of his voice.

"That's very true. He's worked hard and I respect that. It's one of the reasons I chose him to handle all the legal mumbo-jumbo when my development business started taking off. Ginny checked around and helped me make the right choice."

Farnsworth looked at his wife fondly. "I was a lot luckier than Matthew in that way. His marriage didn't seem to stick somehow." He raised his eyebrows. "But I hear he's taking another stab at it, got himself a beautiful young fiancée. Too bad she couldn't make our little party tonight. I've been wondering about the woman that Matthew Garcia might find appealing enough to marry."

Logan was musing over his certainty that if Farnsworth ever met Veronica, he would no longer be wondering, when Ginny's next statement pushed everything else out of his head.

"Oh, didn't I tell you, Jim?" She turned to him suddenly. "Matthew called this morning and his fiancée can make it after all."

"Fantastic!" Jim was enthusiastic about this turn of events. "What's her name again?" he asked.

"Veronica," his wife replied. "Veronica Mars."

What the fuck! I'm not ready for this. Logan did his best to conceal his reaction from the Farnsworths, but his heart began to hammer as he suddenly grasped that within a very few minutes he and Veronica would be face to face for the first time in nearly six years. He hadn't expected it, and his head began to pound when he understood that he wasn't at all prepared.

xxxxxxxx

The other guests began to arrive, and Logan did his best to mingle, but he was feeling more and more nervous about his deception. He'd wanted to surreptitiously get a feel for what Matthew Garcia was all about, but with Veronica's imminent appearance, that plan was shot straight to hell.

Logan excused himself from one of the other guests, and moved towards the back of the room. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel trying to decide if he should find Ginny, make up some excuse, and leave, when the front door opened again and he saw a blond head on a petite frame cross the threshold. He knew immediately that it was far too late to do anything but let the scene play out.

He watched Veronica as she entered the room and glanced around, her eyes taking in every detail as usual. His heart was beating wildly. To say that she was as beautiful as ever would have been a lie. She'd always been beautiful. Even at 12, she'd been beautiful. But this fully matured woman was so stunning that every head turned immediately in her direction.

Logan held his breath, waiting for her to find him, and it didn't take long. His body felt a jolt at the exact moment her eyes locked on his and he heard her give a little gasp. Without conscious thought, he moved towards her and spoke. 

"Hello, Veronica," he said softly.

For a split second, he wondered if she was even going to respond.

"Logan," she said, acknowledging at last that he was there.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica was completely focused on maintaining her composure, on staying upright, on continuing to breathe. On not pinching herself to make sure that she was really awake. Logan...here? He couldn't be, and yet somehow he was. Beside her, Matthew was looking at her curiously.

"Veronica?" he said quizzically, and she felt him stiffen when she failed to respond immediately.

She knew she should say something, do something, but she couldn't seem to gather her wits. And Logan was staring into her eyes and smiling as if the sight of her was the one thing that was keeping the breath moving through his body and the blood flowing in his veins. Just as he always had. And she, dear god, was reacting just as she always did.

Veronica was soon in full panic mode. How can he still do this to me after six fucking years?

His impatience evident, Matthew held out his hand. "Matthew Garcia," he said, and Logan responded in kind, finally wrenching his attention away from Veronica and thrusting out his own hand. 

"Logan Echolls. I'm an old...friend of Veronica's."

Veronica could see him searching Matthew's face for some sign that Matthew recognized his name, but she'd never told Matthew about Logan. She knew she'd have to mention something about a "brief early marriage" eventually, but she'd never intended to provide any details. Or any names.

Veronica suddenly recalled something else and her stomach clenched.

"Uh, is Leah here?" she asked Logan. Her chin lifted as she asserted, "I'd like to meet her."

"Her?" Logan responded, his brow wrinkling.

Veronica let her impatience show. She really wanted to get this meeting over with.

"Yes, Leah, your...?" Veronica was at a loss, didn't know what the woman's...status...might be.

Logan simply looked baffled. "My...business, you mean?" 

Veronica was equally confused. What business?

This exchange had not gone unnoticed by their hostess, as the astute Ginny Farnsworth began to have some inkling as to why Matthew Garcia had caught the attention of Logan Echolls. And there was something, she thought, a little odd about that conversation.

"Logan's promised to tell us all about LEA at dinner," she said brightly. "What is it again that LEA stands for?"

"Uh, Logan Echolls Adventures." He smiled wryly at Veronica. "Somehow that made it sound a little more exciting than Echolls, Inc, or something equally boring."

Veronica couldn't believe it. All this time, since she'd run into Dick that day over a year ago, she'd thought that Logan was...was...

But, no, it wasn't a woman he had but a business! One that was apparently so unusual that he was one of Ginny Farnsworth's "intriguing finds." Veronica felt irrationally angry. All this time she'd pictured him an idle surf bum, living off his inherited wealth, carousing with "Leah," and now there was no Leah. Instead there was LEA.

They soon sat down to dinner, and at his hostess's request, Logan explained about the birth of LEA. About meeting Dexter Briggs in the bar, quickly glossing over why he himself had been there. It was only the briefest of flickers in her direction that let Veronica know that this must have been only a short time after she'd left and that he'd been drowning his sorrows.

"This is the guy who saved Jamie's life," Jim Farnsworth interjected when Logan paused for breath.

Logan demurred modestly. "That might be overstating it a bit, Jim," he said. "It was Greg Carter who worked for years perfecting that helmet, not me."

"Yeah, but you're the one who provided the funds to manufacture them. And your company gives a lot of them away to poorer school districts." He paused. "And you donate your share of the profits to the Brain Injury Foundation."

Logan's mouth dropped open. How the fuck did he know that?

Jim just laughed. "Didn't think anyone knew about that, did you?"

Veronica sat with her mouth agape, wondering how she could have thought that Logan wouldn't have grown up, that he wouldn't care about more than himself. She'd always known what he was capable of.

"Well, we also have some fun adventures. The company owns a state-of-the-art surf shop in Neptune. An old friend of mine, Dick Casablancas, runs the place. In fact we opened a branch not far from here last year." Logan smirked at Veronica's small gasp when he mentioned Dick's name. 

Veronica watched as the Echolls charisma poured out of Logan, as the other guests listened, fascinated, and as the original purpose for the dinner was completely forgotten. But the man sitting beside her hadn't forgotten, and she could feel his temper mount at being upstaged.

Logan finally stopped regaling the others after his third or fourth tale, and sent a pointed look of apology in Matthew's direction.

"But I think we've forgotten why we're all here tonight. I'd like to hear more about Mr. Garcia's plans for the Attorney General's office."

And now Matthew was furious. She could sense it radiating off him. She knew it would seem to him that he was being condescended to, that Logan Echolls had tossed him a bone, that the rich entitled white guy was now going to allow him to speak. And every one of Matthew's buttons would be pushed. When she glanced at Logan's face, she wasn't entirely sure that that wasn't exactly how he'd meant it.

Veronica had had enough and she rose abruptly. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I have to be at court very early tomorrow." She looked at Matthew. "I'll take the car back. I'm sure you can get a ride into the city." She looked around at them all, smiling.

Logan was on his feet in an instant. "I'd be happy to take you home," he offered.

Veronica was sure a look of horror crossed her face as she contemplated an hour alone in a car with Logan. She wasn't ready. She wasn't anywhere near ready. Panic began to set in again.

"No!" she said quickly, then tried to soften it. "I wouldn't dream of taking you away from this beautiful dinner." She thanked her hosts graciously and turned toward the living room where she'd left her small clutch bag, Matthew following. Logan was right behind him.

"Leaving before dessert, Mars," he said with a smile. "That's not like you."

Veronica couldn't help her answering grin. "There's always ice cream at home," she said.

Matthew Garcia saw and heard the exchange and wondered. It wasn't the words; they were innocent enough and spoke of old friendship. It was the looks, the smiles. Veronica suddenly looked like a kid as Echolls ribbed her about her sweet tooth. Who was this man? What had he been to Veronica?

"Veronica," Echolls was saying now. "I really need to talk to you. Do you think maybe we could have lunch together tomorrow? Or dinner?"

"I'll be in court all day, Logan. Lunch isn't really an option. Dinner..."

"Look, if you have something that you need to discuss with my fiancée, I'd certainly like to be present." Matthew couldn't keep the stiffness out of his voice.

Veronica turned on him suddenly. Her look was unreadable, but Matthew was sure he'd never seen it before.

"Matthew," she said, "Logan is an old friend," emphasizing the word 'friend'. "We don't need a chaperone."

Matthew searched for an acceptable solution and finally issued an invitation. "Why don't you come to dinner at my home tomorrow night? We can...get to know one another. And you can say whatever it is you need to say to Veronica."

He could see the flicker of annoyance in Echolls's eyes. He didn't like it, but he'd have to accept it.

"I'm at the St. Regis," he said finally. "Just leave me a message with the details and I'll be there." 

The St. Regis? That was unexpected, Matthew thought. But perhaps no more unexpected than everything else about this evening.

xxxxxxxx

By the time Veronica got home, she knew that sleep was going to be elusive. It was fortunate that the Patterson trial was essentially over. Otherwise, she'd be seriously concerned about her ability to be an effective prosecutor. And that wasn't something that Veronica took lightly. 

Earlier in the evening, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Logan. About everything that had happened between them and everything that had happened afterwards. And then, suddenly, there he was. It was as if she'd somehow known all along that he'd be there.

And why the hell was he at that dinner, anyway? Veronica didn't believe in coincidence. Okay, he knew the Farnsworths. But it was supposed to be a dinner for Matthew, and Logan had never had any interest in politics.

Had Logan known about her relationship with Matthew? About her engagement? But why would he care? He had his own relationship.

Except that he didn't. She thought back to that brief conversation with Dick, and how crushed she'd been. Four-year anniversary, Dick had said. And she had thought...had come home, and thought, he moved on four fucking years ago and I can still hardly go out with another man.

And tears that she hadn't wanted to shed, that she'd told herself she was a fool to shed, had fallen in spite of her best efforts to stem them. She'd left him, after all. And as always, she'd had to remind herself, You can't have it both ways, Veronica.

She'd dried her eyes resolutely, and the next week she had gone to dinner at Len Rosetti's. And met Matthew.

Veronica tossed and turned for an hour, finally giving up. She got up and made herself a cup of tea, and curled up with it in the corner of her living room couch. And recalled, once again, everything that had happened that evening. Everything about Logan.

He'd looked the same - and yet...different. His face had matured, and the vestiges of youthful roundness that it had carried for years had finally disappeared. He'd been dressed far more casually than the other men in a trendy suit with an open collar. But he'd still looked...elegant. She could tell that he was in shape. Logan was always in motion, so she was sure that he still surfed and perhaps he ran as well. 

Veronica herself loved to run, but Matthew never had time to go with her, preferring to take his exercise at the gym in small, scheduled doses. Logan had always hated going to a gym and exercising in public. Veronica grinned. But she wouldn't put it past him to have had a gym installed in his house.

She didn't even know if he still lived in that house. Didn't know anything about him really. 

Except that there was no Leah. There was only a thriving business called LEA that sounded...extraordinary. 

And there was the way he looked at her. Which was...exactly the same. As though he were pouring his soul into his eyes.

And there was how she felt when he looked at her. Which was...exactly the same.

xxxxxxxx

By the time he got home later that evening, Matthew Garcia was furious. Who the fuck was this Echolls? It had taken him years to find Veronica. Someone who was smart and beautiful, who didn't expect him to fall at her feet with protestations of love. 

Someone who didn't expect him to provide her with children. Didn't even seem to want them, really. It made no difference to him which it was, as long as he wasn't expected to father any more. Hadn't he learned already that one was more than enough?

And most importantly, someone who was going to help him become California's next Attorney General. That was...imperative. He couldn't think about what might happen if he was unsuccessful.

Matthew Garcia never went into battle unprepared, and his weapon of choice was information. He picked up his phone and placed a call.

"I don't give a fuck what time it is," he said to the person who answered. "As far as you're concerned, it's morning. I need some information on a guy named Echolls. Logan Echolls." 

He paused, listening.

"No, I don't know how the fuck to spell it. I pay you enough. Figure it out. And I want this no later than tomorrow afternoon. Wait, I guess that would be this afternoon," he said, finally hanging up.

Whoever the fuck this Echolls was, he'd have to be dealt with. Veronica was essential to his plans. He didn't have time to start all over again.


	9. Part II - Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there are a number of words and sentences in this chapter that should be italicized. For instance, all sentences that are written in the first person are the characters' thoughts, and should be italicized. However, AO3 removes the italicized words from the text regardless of how I post the story and will not allow me to re-enter them using the Edit function.
> 
> I apologize for any confusion this may cause.

Part II - Chapter 4 

There had been times when Veronica had railed against the prevalence of plea bargains in the criminal justice system, that vengeful part of her always wanting to extract the maximum amount of retribution for any crime. But that Friday morning, after a nearly sleepless night, Veronica felt ragged. 

So when she arrived at the courthouse for what she had thought would be the last day of trial and was told that the defendant, Mr. Patterson, was willing to plead to voluntary manslaughter, Veronica rejoiced. She hadn't been certain of winning this one; the evidence had been highly circumstantial. But apparently Mr. Patterson had decided not to take his chances with the jury.

Veronica was so tired that she would have fallen asleep during Patterson's allocution if one of her colleagues hadn't jabbed her with his elbow. A lot of paperwork followed, and then finally it was over.

It was nearly noon by then, but for once Veronica wasn't hungry. In fact, her stomach churned as she thought about that evening's dinner with Matthew. And Logan. She needed some rest. She needed a nap. She needed to go into hiding.

Veronica sighed. She knew that last wasn't going to happen, but it was possible she could manage to get Len to let her take the rest of the day off so she could get some much-needed sleep. As it turned out, her boss wasn't hard to convince, especially when he saw how worn-out she looked.

"Great job, Mars," he said. "I wasn't sure we had enough evidence for a conviction, but I guess you scared Mr. Patterson so much he was afraid to take his chances with the jury." 

He winked at her, but this was definitely a case of the truth spoken in jest. Len had seen Mars in action in the courtroom, and he was consistently amazed that someone who was so small in stature and who looked like she should be on the red carpet instead of in a courtroom, could be so damned intimidating. She was always sure of her facts, she never backed off, never got ruffled, and saw right through obfuscation and evasion. 

In short, Len Rosetti had no doubt that Veronica Mars was a born prosecutor, and he was damned glad she'd picked Marin County to take up the charge. 

But today, she definitely looked a little the worse for wear.

"So am I gonna have to call Garcia and tell him to ease back on the late nights? You look like crap, Mars." He smirked at her as she sat with her head in her hands.

"Well gee, thanks, Dad, that's just what a girl wants to hear." Veronica gave her boss a quick smile. "You can't lay this on Matthew, Len. I just didn't sleep well last night."

Rosetti's right brow quirked up in surprise. "You, Mars? I thought you always had your life under control?"

For just an instant, an expression crossed Veronica's face that Len Rosetti had never seen there before. A little sad, a little afraid...and then it was gone, and she smirked back at him.

"A girl, and by that I mean a very successful prosecutor girl, could use a little time off," she said, her head tilted just so.

Rosetti had seen that head thing before and knew when he was beaten. 

"Pack it in, Mars," he gave in gracefully. "We'll see you on Monday."

She grinned at him, batted her lashes, and said fawningly, "You're just the best boss ever." 

Len sighed. "Yeah, right. I always am when you get what you want."

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Matthew Garcia had also endured a night in which sleep had been elusive. He had pills in the medicine cabinet for these rare episodes of insomnia, but Matthew hated to take them. He would swallow one only when it was absolute necessary, when business demands required that he be alert the following day, when he couldn't afford to give himself time off. But last night had not been such a night.

At 4AM, after several hours of frustrated tossing and turning, Matthew had left a message on his secretary's phone asking her to cancel that day's appointments, then managed to drop off just as the sky was lightening. After four hours of uneasy sleep, he finally dragged himself out of bed, only to find that he had a new problem, and she was sitting at his kitchen island, drinking coffee and eating cold cereal.

"Daddy! Finally! This must be the first time in the history of the universe that I got out of bed before you did. Are you sick or something?" She looked at him speculatively. "Unless of course you couldn't stand to leave your bed because that blonde you've been shagging is still in it." 

Eyebrows raised, she smirked at him, waiting for the embarrassed anger she was sure she'd provoked.

But for once, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison had read her father wrong. He was too busy trying to come to grips with the fact that his difficult daughter had put in an appearance to worry about one of her signature outrageous remarks.

"Evie," he said, "what are you doing here?" Dammit! He did not need any other complications right now. Madeleine had promised him she'd keep their daughter out of the way at least until after the primaries.

"Duh, I live here?" Evie continued spooning the contents of the cereal bowl into her mouth. "And listen, can we get some Fruit Loops or something? This granola shit seriously sucks."

Matthew sighed. "Evie, can you try not to be quite so vulgar?" He reached for a K-pack to brew himself a cup of coffee, and felt the first stirrings of pain behind his eyelids.

Evie quirked one eyebrow as she finished the last spoonful of cereal. She got up from the stool and dropped her bowl and spoon into the sink with a clatter.

"So nobody can say 'shit' in this house now that you're running for office?" She turned from the sink and gave him a sly grin. "Or was it the 'shagging' comment that you objected to?"

Things never changed, he thought, quickly losing patience with his daughter. "I sent you to London to absorb a little culture, maybe acquire a cosmopolitan patina, but the only thing you seem to have learned is the British slang for..." He stopped suddenly.

Evie's eyes glinted and her mouth quirked as she leaned against the sink, arms crossed in front of her. "For what, Daddy? British slang for what?" she asked, challenging him to finish his sentence.

Matthew ran his hands across his face. He was tense, exhausted, and now he had to deal with his recalcitrant daughter. He took a quick sip of his coffee, hoping the jolt of caffeine would calm his nerves.

"Is there a particular reason why you came home just now, Evie?" he asked. "I thought your mother told me you wouldn't be back until late summer."

"Well, I got bored, okay? Can't I just come home if I want?" Her chin rose in defiance and she banged her coffee mug onto the counter. "Maybe I want to meet this...woman...you're planning to marry."

"You have met her. When you were here for the holidays."

"Yeah, but she was just one of your women then, not my new 'mommy-to-be'. Or did you plan on keeping us apart until you got her down the aisle?" Her mouth twisted in hurt. "Don't want to scare her off by subjecting her to the 'wayward daughter'." 

"Of course not..." he began.

"Well, where is she then?" Evie demanded. "Is she still in your bed?"

"Evie!" Matthew snapped, finally provoked to his limit. "That's enough! You know very well that Veronica has her own apartment. But right now, she's probably in court."

"Well, when will I get to see her, then? Don't you want to give us a chance to bond?" She was equal parts petulant and mocking.

"Tonight," he finally conceded. "She's coming for dinner tonight." Too late, he remembered who else was coming to dinner. "With an old...friend," he added as though it were an afterthought.

"Oh, goody," Evie said, rolling her eyes, as she flounced out of the room. "Two of them. I can hardly wait."

With a sigh, Matthew picked up his mug from the counter. "I, too, can hardly wait," he muttered, sipping his coffee.

xxxxxxxx

"You could at least have given me some warning, Madeleine." He could hear the frustration in his own voice as he spoke to his ex-wife. He was sitting in the reading chair in his bedroom, the only room in the condo in which he could be certain he wouldn't be interrupted by Evie. 

"This is really not a good time for a visit," he said directly. "I have neither the time nor the patience to rein in every one of her outrageous impulses."

He paused, sighing, listening to her litany of excuses.

"How unsuitable was he?" he asked. Matthew wondered how it was that his daughter inevitably attached herself to the least acceptable man in any room...and in any town. "You're supposed to be keeping an eye on her, not running around Europe with your boyfriends..." He wondered why he even bothered.

His phone beeped to alert him that he had another call, and he checked out the caller ID.

"Look, Madeleine, I have another call coming in, but this conversation is not over." He sighed. "I'll get back to you early next week."

Matthew switched to the new caller.

"So what did you find out about Logan Echolls?"

When Matthew hung up the phone several minutes later he leaned back in his chair and tried to piece it all together, tried to make sense of it. Because it was nothing like what he'd expected.

He'd expected to find that Echolls was an old friend, or even an old boyfriend. He hadn't expected to find that at one time Veronica had been near the very center of a maelstrom of scandal and controversy.

He supposed he should have remembered the name Echolls. It was an uncommon name, and Aaron Echolls had not only been a famous movie star, he had also been accused of murdering his son's girlfriend. The same son that Matthew was expecting for dinner that evening.

Matthew remembered the case now. Aaron Echolls had been acquitted, but later he'd either been murdered himself or committed suicide. The authorities had never been able to agree one way or the other. The mother was dead, too, a presumed suicide, because her body had never been found.

And then there was the money. He'd inherited from both parents and had been orphaned and a multi-millionaire by the time he was eighteen. And with the money, and that upbringing, and all the scandal, Logan Echolls should have been the most fucked-up culo in Southern California. But somehow he wasn't. 

Sometime after college he'd started that business, LEA, and every fucking thing the guy invested in had turned into a goldmine. It just proved what Matthew had known his whole life: the rich just kept on getting richer, and everybody else stood in line for the scraps.

Matthew had known that Veronica was from Neptune, but he knew she'd had a middle-class upbringing. So he would never have imagined that she'd mingled with a software heiress or the son of movie stars, that the murdered girl, Lilly Kane, had been her best friend, or that she'd dated someone like Echolls in high school, and then again when they'd both been at Hearst. Matthew wondered why she'd never told him about it.

Surprisingly, beyond the barest of information, his investigator was unable to find out much about Echolls's current personal life. But he'd found any number of people who would talk about his business ventures, about LEA, usually to sing the guy's praises. Matthew had smiled cynically when he'd heard that. He knew from long experience that there were unpleasant skeletons in everyone's closet. And if he found he needed to put more effort into this investigation, he had no doubt he could find the ones that lurked in the back of Logan Echolls's wardrobe.

Matthew pondered how all this might relate to Veronica's life today, but he could see no connection at all. 

He didn't give a damn if she'd been at the periphery of a notorious murder case a decade ago. She'd had no culpability, and it had left no taint on her. It didn't affect who she was now, the woman who had graduated near the top of her class at Stanford and who, according to Maggie Rosetti, was a rising star in the District Attorney's Office.

Neither did he give a damn if the son of two movie stars had been an old flame. Echolls still lived in Neptune and Matthew knew that Veronica hadn't been back there in years, so any attachment between them, any adolescent infatuation, would have been over and done with long before he himself met Veronica.

No, Veronica was still suitable, which was a relief because he needed this to work out with her. Matthew doubted that he would be able to find another woman on the planet who met his requirements so perfectly.

So there remained only one minor irritation with tonight's dinner party, one small prick to his pride. Matthew was used to being able to impress his guests with his condo on Nob Hill, with its full-time concierge, and it's panoramic view of the city. But he knew that nothing he had, nothing he owned, was ever going to impress Logan Echolls.

He could live with that, he decided, because after tonight, he didn't expect to have to see Mr. Echolls again. He would come to dinner, say whatever it was he needed to say to his old friend Veronica, and then disappear from their lives forever.

Matthew Garcia picked up his glass of very old, very expensive, single malt whiskey, and toasted Logan Echolls's imminent departure from his life.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica had managed a couple of hours sleep that afternoon, and she'd woken up with a renewed purpose: to protect the life that she'd so carefully constructed. She had a job that she loved, she had a few friends that she enjoyed, and she had Matthew. A man she could be with who would ask nothing more of her than she was willing to give. 

Matthew demanded fidelity, but not undying love. He wanted a physical relationship, but could live happily without real intimacy. He required her presence when the occasion demanded it, but he didn't want to own her soul. Veronica knew that she could meet those expectations and still retain a part of herself that was hers alone. A safe place, where no one could hurt her.

So she'd awoken with every intention of getting Logan Echolls out of her head once and for all. She couldn't afford any more sleepless nights. 

She decided to get to Matthew's early so that she could explain about Logan. Not everything, of course. At one time, she'd envisioned telling Matthew that she'd been married briefly. But she had never intended to provide details, not even about who it was she'd been married to. Most especially about who I was married to.

Now that he'd met Logan and there was every chance he might connect the dots, she'd changed her mind. She was determined to retain at least that much privacy and besides, the marriage had been so brief. And of course there would never be a need to mention...

Veronica inner voice stopped at the same place that it always did. The words wouldn't come, even inside her head, so there was no chance she'd be telling Matthew anything he didn't need to know.

She shook her head. After all, she wasn't planning to keep him completely in the dark. She could certainly explain about Lilly. About Aaron Echolls. Everything that had happened a decade ago was part of the public record anyway, so with Matthew running for office, it would be best if he knew before some zealous reporter dug it all up.

Determination in every step, Veronica was feeling refreshingly open and honest by the time she got out of the cab at Matthew's building that evening. She waved to the concierge, rode the elevator up to the penthouse condominium, and used her own key to open the door. Only to have the wind taken out of her sails by the sultry brunette lying on the couch in the living room.

"So I guess I'm not surprised that Daddy gave you a key," Evie said by way of greeting, a sly grin in place. "It must make booty calls a whole lot more convenient. I mean, you certainly couldn't expect him to take himself off to whatever hole in the wall you call home."

Veronica's lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. "Nice to see you, Evie," she said as pleasantly as she could manage, sitting down on a nearby chair.

Matthew appeared, carrying a bottle of wine and some glasses, and Evie's expression challenged Veronica to rat her out to her father, to repeat to him what Evie had said to her. But Veronica was ever adept at playing the long game.

"Oh, I see I don't need to reintroduce the two of you," Matthew announced to the room at large, the relief in his voice palpable.

"No need at all, "Veronica said pleasantly as he kissed her cheek. "Evie is not someone I'm likely to forget. I have a pretty good memory for faces...and for conversation."

"Attributes that are no doubt useful to a prosecutor," he said, opening the bottle and pouring a small amount of wine into one of the glasses, swirling it around the bottom. 

Evie eyed Veronica closely. She remembered the doll-like appearance, but she certainly didn't remember the sharp claws or the pointed remarks.

"Where are you going, Evie?" her father asked in surprise, as she slid off the couch and turned toward the hallway. "I thought you would want to have a glass of wine with us."

"Gotta change, Dad," she said, waving a hand at him as she disappeared from the room.

When Matthew turned back toward Veronica, he could scarcely ignore the raised brows and the quirked mouth. He sat on the couch his daughter had just vacated and sighed in frustration.

"She was supposed to stay with her mother in London for at least a couple of more months, but she was sitting in the kitchen when I got up this morning." He explained, his expression conveying that it had not been a pleasant surprise. "I spoke with Madeleine, and apparently Evie became...involved with a very unsuitable man. Madeleine thought the best solution would be to send her to me."

He continued, annoyed. "Of course it never occurred to Madeleine to ask if it was convenient, or at least let me know..."

"Matthew," Veronica finally broke in. "I don't care that Evie's here. This is her home, after all. I just wonder why you didn't give me some warning." 

Matthew was somewhat taken aback. People rarely criticized his actions. Or inactions. Not even Veronica, although he'd known for a long time that she was extremely direct, and unlikely to hold back if she felt strongly about something.

He was displeased by her attitude, but neither did he want to provoke her. And perhaps she was at least partially right.

"I'm...sorry, Veronica. I didn't sleep well and I've had a busy day. But I should have made it a point to let you know." He wondered when the last time was that he'd actually apologized to someone.

"Okay," she said, prepared to be conciliatory, since she had her own agenda and wanted to get it out before Evie returned to the room.

"Matthew," she began, "you, uh, may have wondered how it is that Logan Echolls and I know each other." She looked down at her hands, took a breath, looked up, smiled slightly. "The fact is that he's...an old boyfriend. I haven't seen him since...we graduated from Hearst. We, uh, went to high school together, too." It was close enough to the truth to serve, she decided.

Veronica studied Matthew, trying to determine how he was reacting to this information, but his face told her nothing.

"Something...horrible happened when we were in high school." Veronica paused, folded her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "A...murder. Logan's...father was Aaron Echolls, the movie star. He...he killed my best friend, Lilly Kane. Lilly...at the time, Lilly was Logan's girlfriend. It was a terrible ordeal for all of us."

Veronica paused now that she'd gotten the worst out. "Logan and I didn't start dating until long after that. We dated off and on toward the end of high school and at Hearst, but nothing...nothing ever came of it."

She stopped and looked at Matthew for a reaction. He nodded.

"I'm a little surprised to hear you say that the movie star killed your friend," he said. "Wasn't he acquitted of that murder?"

Veronica's eyes narrowed suddenly, and her mouth hardened. "I could have sworn that last night you had no idea who Logan Echolls was," she said carefully, "much less who his father was. Or anything at all about his murder trial."

"You're right," he said, "I didn't. But I like knowing who's coming into my house."

"So you had him...Logan...investigated?" Her voice rose and her manner was decidedly frosty.

"I wouldn't say 'investigated'. I had him...looked into," Matthew equivocated.

"Is there a difference? You might have just asked me, Matthew."

"And would you have told me?"

"I just did, didn't I?" Veronica's tone was curt.

"But I don't think you've told me everything."

Veronica paled suddenly. "What...what do you mean?" Her eyes looked wary.

"You didn't mention that the father was subsequently murdered or that the mother had committed suicide," Matthew said, and for a second he could have sworn that she looked...relieved.

"No, I never got that far, and besides those things had nothing to do with me."

"And the murder case...the arrest of Aaron Echolls...that did have something to do with you?"

"Yes, it did," she said, her chin coming up stubbornly. "I'm the one who figured out who killed Lilly. And I don't care what the verdict was, Aaron was guilty."

Matthew just stared at her. She figured it out? But she couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 at the time.

Evie returned to the room just then, and the discussion was necessarily suspended. Matthew took a good look at his daughter and groaned inwardly. Whereas before he'd thought her attire of jeans and t-shirt a little too casual for dinner, this new outfit was daring in the extreme. Matthew knew it was supposed to be a dress, but it hardly seemed to cover enough of the lower part of her body to warrant that description.

Short, tight, low-cut. He sighed, knowing he probably wouldn't be happy when he saw the charge on his Amex bill, either.

"Is this what you wear for a family dinner, Evie?" he demanded. "How is this...dress...appropriate?"

"Really, Daddy?" she said with a smirk. "It's Friday night. Did you think I was going to hang here all night? Melissa's picking me up later. We're going to a club."

The doorbell rang just then, and before anyone else could move, Evie said, "I'll get the door. That must be your friend, Veronica. Maybe she'll like my dress."

xxxxxxxx

When Logan alighted from his taxi and entered Garcia's building carrying a bottle of what had always been Veronica's favorite Cabernet, it was clear that the concierge had been told to expect him. He was shown to the correct elevator and the proper button was pressed for him. Top floor, Logan noted, the penthouse condo. Obviously Attorney Garcia would settle for nothing less than the best.

Logan smiled wryly at the thought and shook his head at himself. The man was, after all, engaged to Veronica.

When the elevator reached the top, he saw that there was only one door on that floor. He'd barely pressed the bell when the door was opened by an attractive girl whose brunette waves cascaded past her shoulders and whose dress was so short that he wondered how she would be able to sit down without revealing territory that was better left uncharted. 

"Weeeeell," she said when she saw him standing there, her grin showing a beautiful set of what were probably very expensively-straightened teeth. "And who might you be?"

Her smile widened when she saw his answering grin.

"I was just going to ask you the same question," he said. "It's possible that I'm at the wrong condo."

But then the door opened wider and Garcia appeared, an expression of annoyance on his face.

"Mr. Echolls," he said somewhat reluctantly, "I'd like to present my daughter, Evangeline Garcia-Harrison."

"Oh, Daddy," she said, rolling her eyes and holding out her hand to Logan. "Hi, I'm Evie Garcia. And you are...?"

"Logan Echolls," he said, shaking her hand.

"Here, Daddy," she said, relieving Logan of the bottle of wine and handing it to her astonished father. Then she looped her arm through Logan's and pulled him into the room.

"So...you're Veronica's old friend?" she asked, quirking a brow as if not quite believing it.

"I am," responded Logan. "Is she...?" But before he could finish his question, he saw Veronica standing just a few feet away in black slacks and an off-the-shoulder red sweater, an outfit that was far sexier, he thought, than the revealing one on the girl standing beside him. His breath caught as he recognized once again how beautiful Veronica had become.

Veronica flushed at his expression, and Evie eyed them quizzically, but Garcia appeared not to notice anything amiss.

"Hello, Veronica," Logan said, his mind still reeling from the fact that he'd now had occasion to use that phrase twice in the past two days.

"Hello, Logan," she responded tentatively, as though she, too, were having trouble accepting that they were really in each other's presence again after so many years apart.

"Ah, now that you're here, I think we should eat immediately," Garcia announced suddenly. "The caterer left everything in the oven, so we just need to remove it and serve."

He smiled suddenly, playing the gracious host, and Logan realized it was the first time he'd seen Garcia smile since they'd met. He wondered fleetingly if his own presence had somehow soured Garcia's mood, or if the man was just naturally dour.

The condo was designed in the very modern open concept style, and had no separate dining room, but a small round table had been laid for four near the end of the room that was closest to the kitchen. Logan shot an amused glance at Veronica as Evie pulled him toward the dining table. 

"Here," she said, "sit next to me." Evie favored him with another huge smile that he was sure she had employed often to get exactly what she wanted. 

Garcia moved to the chair on Logan's left, leaving the seat across from him empty for Veronica. Logan wasn't sure which was going to be the greater torture: the fact that she was too far away to 'accidentally' touch, or that he'd have to look at her directly for the entire time they'd be dining.

Garcia eyed his daughter and said, "I could use your help with the serving, Evie."

"What are we having, Daddy?" Evie asked, rising. "It smells really good."

Garcia smiled, certain that he'd made the right choices for his impromptu dinner party. "Veronica never turns down Italian, so I thought we'd have a couple of her favorites."

Father and daughter moved into the kitchen area to retrieve their dinner, and Garcia called back confidently, "We're having lasagna, and for dessert, tiramisu." 

Veronica gave her head a little shake and looked down at her plate, wondering what cruel god of irony had prompted Matthew to choose that particular menu. But then her head came up and she found herself searching Logan's face because it suddenly became important to know if she was the only one who remembered.

When he smiled at her softly, she could see that they were both reliving the same memory, and she couldn't help returning his smile.

When Veronica's eyes dropped to her left hand, Logan was certain that she was seeing not the enormous glittering rock that sat there today, but the flat platinum band with the tiny diamond chips that she'd twisted and turned around her finger all the way through their simple wedding dinner.

"Veronica," Logan said, his voice barely a whisper, and without thinking he stretched his hand across the table toward her. But before he could touch her, Veronica jumped up and excused herself, practically running towards the bathroom.

Evie brought in the the food and began to serve it while Garcia uncorked the Cabernet and poured it into their glasses. When she returned a few moments later, Veronica had regained her composure and she smiled at her fiancé and studiously avoided Logan's gaze.

"It looks delicious," she said.

"So, what do you do, Logan?" Evie asked him, demanding his attention, just as he was shoveling a forkful of pasta and cheese into his mouth. "Or do you do nothing at all but sit around looking hot?" She practically purred at him.

"Evie!" Her father nearly choked on his wine. "Behave yourself."

"Oh, Daddy, I'm sure it isn't anything Logan hasn't heard a million times before," she said, with a wink and a shrug in Logan's direction. And while the others were occupied with her brazen question, under cover of the tablecloth Evie was busy stroking up and down the calf of Logan's right leg with the edge of her very expensive designer shoes. For the moment, Logan gave up any pretense of eating.

She was right. He had heard it before, all of it. He'd had women throwing themselves at him since he was in his early teens. He'd never been sure if it was his famous name, the millions in his bank account, or just his personal appeal that drew women to him, but it had become something he'd gotten used to dealing with.

But these days, most of the women who came onto him were a little older than Evie, and none tried to hit on him with their fathers sitting three feet away. So despite his years of practice in fending off advances, while Logan was amused, he was also just a little bit embarrassed. His brows quirked and he shot a smile over to Veronica, sure that she'd be amused, too. But there he found he was completely wrong.

Veronica looked nothing like amused. Veronica looked pissed. Veronica looked...jealous?

Logan's heart began beating faster when he realized that jealous was exactly how she looked.

Garcia failed to notice Veronica's expression as he poured the last of the wine that Logan had brought into her glass. "I'm sure I've got some more Cabernet in the other room. Will you excuse me?" he said, rising to fetch another bottle from the supply he kept on racks in his home office.

Evie took advantage of her father's temporary absence to return her attention to Logan.

"So," she said with a smirk, her hand reaching out to stroke his arm. "I'll bet you do something really exciting for a living?"

Logan laughed. "I hate to disappoint you, Evie, but I actually own a business."

"I'll never believe it!" she teased. "Businessmen are fat and pompous and can't possibly be any fun."

"Well," he said, "not every part of my business is boring and stuffy. Have you ever tried surfing? My company owns the most rad surf shop in Southern California."

"Duuuude!" she laughed, drawing out the word. "You surf?"

"Since I was a kid," he assured her with a smile.

"Logan," Veronica broke in suddenly. "I was surprised to hear that Dick was actually running the surf shop and not spending all his time surfing and chasing t...uh...women."

"He's surprisingly good at it, Veronica. He has a way with people." He gave a little laugh at her look of disbelief, and conceded. "Well, with most people. Even Dick had to grow up sometime."

"Funny he didn't say anything to me about it," Veronica muttered, her brow wrinkling slightly, then she looked up quickly as if realizing what she might have revealed.

Too late. Logan had heard her and was looking at her quizzically. "Say anything to you...when? When did you see Dick?" 

"I...ran into Dick not far from the courthouse last year. He said you'd sent him here because you were too busy to come yourself." 

"Too...busy?"

"Yeah," she said, picking up her glass of wine. "Dick said you were busy with LEA. That it was your 4-year anniversary." She set her glass down and tried to avoid his eye.

Logan's head was spinning as he finally made sense of her remarks to him the previous evening. She had run into Dick last year, and from whatever Dick had said, she'd thought that LEA was Leah, and that Logan had had a 4-year relationship with a woman, which would have had to begin...

As Logan did the math, his stunned eyes held hers. "So," he said carefully, "you heard about the 4-year anniversary of LEA and thought..." 

He could see the mottling on Veronica's face as she finally caught his eye and flushed with embarrassment. Logan's mind reeled at the implications of this revelation. Was this before she'd met Garcia? Did it have anything at all to do with...?

Garcia returned then with another bottle of wine, but Logan was thinking so furiously that he barely heard him. He forced himself to focus; he could sort out everything else later.

"So your company seems to deal with a lot of very diverse products," Garcia said politely.

Veronica added with a smile, grateful for the change of topic, "I kind of wondered where you got the idea for the helmets. You've never really been a football fan."

Logan quirked a brow at her. "Now that's the one adventure I thought you might have heard about," he said.

When Veronica just looked at him blankly, he said, "Wallace never told you?"

Veronica was startled. "What does it have to do with Wallace?"

"Wallace was the one who brought me the project." He grinned suddenly, knowing what her reaction would be to his next disclosure. "Wallace and...Weevil."

"Weevil!?" Veronica expression was everything he could have hoped for, and Logan laughed softly.

"What the hell kind of name is Weevil?" Evie asked, injecting herself into the conversation.

"Evie, language!" Her father closed his eyes, sighing.

Veronica answered her question. "It's a...nickname. His real name is Eli." She turned to Logan. "You've been in touch with...Weevil?"

"Weevil's cousin got hurt playing football and Wallace's friend had designed a new helmet. They came to me with the idea and...I ran with it."

Logan looked at her oddly. "You do still see Wallace, right? You're in touch?"

"Yes, of course," she said, "but we never talk about...Neptune." 

Why do I think that what you're really saying is that you never talk about Logan?

"Well," he said aloud. "Weevil and Wallace each own 5% of that part of the business. Kind of a 'finder's fee'. I thought Wallace might have mentioned it because I'm pretty sure he's planning to buy a house with his profits."

"You...keep up with Wallace?" she asked faintly.

"Veronica," he said quietly, "we're all friends. Wallace and Weevil and I. We have poker nights and barbecues. I went to Weevil's wedding last year."

Veronica looked stricken, and Logan felt as though he'd taken something away from her. But he knew that the only thing he'd really done was to force her to alter her perceptions about people - and relationships - that she'd thought were immutable. Wallace and Weevil? Wallace and Logan? Weevil and Logan? He could see it all dancing around in her head just by the expression on her face. But he couldn't help her.

The doorbell rang suddenly and Evie jumped up. "That must be Melissa," she said. 

"Where is it that you're going, Evie?" her father asked.

"Really, Daddy," she tried first, and then, reading his expression, "dance club with Melissa," she threw over her shoulder on her way to let her girlfriend in.

"Don't worry," she added when she saw his expression, "I'll get an under 21 wristband at the club door." 

Evie slung a small purse over her shoulder and was almost out the door when she ran back with a request for Logan that was accompanied by her brightest smile.

"It was so great meeting you, Logan," she gushed. "Uh, do you have a card or something, just in case I run into a, uh, business opportunity you might be interested in."

Logan smiled at her and quirked an eyebrow. "A business opportunity, huh?" he said, fishing a card out of his wallet and handing it to her. 

"Thanks," she said, putting the card away in her purse. Then she was swooping in to kiss his cheek before running out the door with her friend.

Logan laughed and shook his head, Matthew Garcia closed his eyes in embarrassment, and Veronica Mars looked like she'd swallowed a goldfish.

"Why don't we have coffee and dessert in the living room and Logan can tell us whatever it is he came here to say," Matthew suggested almost as soon as the door had closed behind his daughter. 

He rose quickly, clearly expecting the other two to follow him to the seating area across the room.

With a quick glance at Veronica, Logan rose also. "I think perhaps I'll decline on both counts," he said. "Dinner was great," he added politely, "but I'm watching my waistline." His trademark sardonic smile was in full evidence.

Veronica was still seated, and Logan pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "Why don't you just key in your number, and I'll call you tomorrow?" he said. Veronica took the phone and silently entered the digits, then called herself so she'd have his number, too.

But Matthew Garcia was not used to being ignored. "What the hell is going on, Echolls?" he asked, his displeasure evident in his tone. "You came here to discuss something with Veronica, and now you're leaving without speaking about it?"

"No," Logan responded, and the genial tone he'd used all evening had all but disappeared. "That's why you invited me here. My reasons for coming were entirely my own. And any conversation I have with Veronica will be in private unless she says otherwise," he added, glancing at Veronica, who handed his phone back to him wordlessly.

"That is completely unacceptable," Garcia fumed. "I've been more than reasonable about this, but I simply won't have another man..."

Veronica got up so fast that her chair nearly tipped over behind her. "You won't have another man what, Matthew? Talking to me? Is that what you were about to say? That I can't have a conversation with an old friend without asking your permission? What comes next? Will you employ a duenna to watch my every move?"

Logan stood there for a moment, amused, as Veronica slid effortlessly into full-on attack mode. It was clear from the expression on his face that this was a facet of her personality that Garcia had never encountered before. Then he moved toward the door, more than ready to leave before he said something unpleasant to Garcia himself.

Veronica followed in his wake, with Matthew on their heels, outraged that he'd lost control of the situation, until all three stood just inside the front entrance.

"An old friend? Is that the fiction you're trying to sell here, Echolls?" Matthew scoffed. The gloves were completely off now.

He turned toward Veronica, affronted. "Don't you see what he's trying to do, Veronica? He's trying to come between us. He's in the past. You're my fiancée, now."

While Veronica had been angered by Matthew's attempts to bully her, she understood that he'd reacted that way because he felt threatened, so she consciously softened her voice and tried to reason with him.

"Matthew," she said, as calmly as she could manage, "if Logan has something to say to me, then I have a right to hear it, whatever it is. And if we choose to have our conversation in private, then you'll just have to accept that. I'm not a child, or a possession. You can't dictate my life."

But her words didn't have the desired effect. In fact, Matthew Garcia couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And this is the respect you show me?" he bit off, incensed that she could so completely disregard his wishes, particularly in front of...this man. 

"I have a right, as your fiancé, to know what is going on in your life!" His voice rose as outrage overtook him. "I have a right to understand your...your relationship with any other man! I have a right as your fiancé to prevent another man from trying to take advantage of an old friendship to come between us! I have a right as your fiancé..."

And it was at that point that Logan Echolls had Just. Had. Enough. He'd spent years learning to rein in his temper. Learning to curb his impulses. Learning to think before he spoke, before he acted, before he did something the would surely set loose the hounds of hell. 

But at that moment he was simply pushed beyond his limits. So although he knew that it would probably make things worse, and that Veronica deserved better from him, there came that split second where none of that mattered, because Matthew Garcia had uttered the words 'your fiancé' one too many times. And the voice in Logan's head and the blood singing in his veins were both shouting 'I don't give a damn'.

"Shut the fuck up!" Logan roared suddenly, turning on Garcia. The words practically exploded out of his mouth. "She's not your fucking fiancée! How can she be your fucking fiancée when she's my fucking wife!?"

Veronica gasped, and her entire body swung toward Logan.

Suddenly, there was dead silence.

Matthew recovered first and pivoted slowly toward Logan. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice a strange mixture of bewildered hostility.

"I said," Logan moderated his voice with difficulty as he felt Veronica's eyes boring into him, "I said that some people might find it a little...unorthodox...that you keep referring to her as your fiancée when she's still married to me."

"Is this true, Veronica?" Matthew demanded, turning towards her, his temper rising as he began to understand that she had hidden something of great importance from him. "Are you...are you...married to this man?"

Veronica's chin lifted. "It was a long time ago, Matthew," she answered, her voice hollow. "And we were divorced."

"Then why is it that Echolls claims you are still his wife?" His anger was palpable.

Veronica rounded on Logan, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

And now remorse was setting in, and Logan was almost as distressed as Garcia. Dammit! How could I have let myself lose control like that? 

"Veronica," he said, "I'm...sorry doesn't even begin to..." He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and tried again.

"That wasn't exactly how I planned to break the news," he said, sighing, "but...the bottom line is that our divorce was never recorded. We've been legally married for nearly six years."

For just a moment, Veronica said nothing as she let that sink in. 

"And you've known about this...how long?" she asked finally, her voice clipped, uninflected. In a heartbeat, she had moved into cross-examination mode.

"I found out last week," he said.

"How? How did you find out?"

"I'll be happy to tell you everything, Veronica, but do we have to do this right here, right now?" And in front of this audience, he added silently.

She glanced at Matthew then as though she'd only just remembered where she was and who was present.

"Matthew," she said, turning to face him, "you have every right to be angry that I kept this from you, and I'll understand if you want to break our engagement."

"Veronica, no!" His answer was immediate. "This is just some kind of a...a technical glitch. We can get it straightened out..."

She frowned in thought, coming to a decision. "In the meantime," she said, "I'm not really comfortable wearing this. I don't have a right to it."

Veronica removed the ring with the enormous diamond from her left hand and placed it in Matthew's palm.

"But I just said..." Matthew looked down at his hand, bewildered.

"I'm not...breaking our engagement, Matthew. I...just now, I don't feel right about wearing your ring."

Before either man could predict her intentions, Veronica had grabbed her handbag and was out the door. Logan turned to follow her, but Garcia's hand on his arm stopped him.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm letting you get away with this, Echolls," he said. "I know you have manipulated this situation somehow. Or at the very least you're using it to your own advantage. But Veronica will have my ring back on her finger as soon as she realizes what you're up to."

Logan glanced down at Garcia's hand on his arm. "I think you might want to remove your hand from my arm," he said, his voice dangerously low. 

Garcia let go abruptly, as though Logan's arm were burning his fingers. Logan took a couple of steps toward the door, then changed his mind and turned back to face the other man, determined that he was not quite finished. 

"You know, Garcia," he said deliberately, "you may think that you have some control in this situation, but let me tell you how it's going to play out. Veronica may decide that you're what she wants, in which case we'll spend some time straightening out our legal mess, and then you'll have your fiancée back. Or else she'll decide that you're not what she wants, in which case you'll have to find some other woman to escort to all your political fundraisers."

He paused, hoping his words would sink in. "In either case, there's not going to be a fucking thing you can do about it, because Veronica Mars makes her own decisions and runs her own life. If you don't know that about her, then you don't know anything."

Logan opened the door then, but as he'd expected, Veronica was already gone.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica huddled on the sidewalk outside Matthew's building, trying to gather her wits. The events of the last couple of days had left her bruised and battered emotionally, and by now she simply didn't know what to think.

She and Logan were still married. That's what he'd said. Still married. He hadn't known either, he'd said, not until last week. But...how? How had it happened? How was it that he'd found out now? Veronica shuddered to think that she might have married Matthew, not knowing she was still married to Logan. 

That's what was bothering her, wasn't it? That she might have unknowingly entered into a bigamous relationship? It couldn't be anything else.

Veronica wrapped her arms around herself. She knew she couldn't just stand there forever. She needed to find a cab, get home...

"Veronica?" She'd never heard him approach, didn't know he was there until he was standing right next to her.

His voice was soft, but then it always had been when he spoke to her. She turned to face him.

"Veronica," he said again. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to blurt it out...like that..."

"But that's why you came to San Francisco, isn't it, Logan? To tell me. Your being at that dinner last night - that was no coincidence." Her voice was soft, too, as she searched his face for the truth.

Logan sighed, admitting it. "It was no coincidence." He paused. "Look, Veronica, can't we meet tomorrow sometime, so I can explain everything to you? I know I owe you that. More than that." 

His eyes pleaded with her.

"I can't...I can't think right now," she said, fatigue and distress rendering her incapable of even the smallest decision. Her face softened as she looked at him. "I'll call you tomorrow and we can...decide then." 

She sighed. "But right now, I need to go home and sleep."

"Did you come by taxi?" he asked. When she nodded, he stepped closer to the curb and hailed the next empty cab to take her home.

Veronica got into the cab, surprised when Logan closed the door behind her. "But...aren't you coming?" she asked. "You don't have a car here, do you?"

"I'll get the next one," he said, pausing for a moment. "I'm pretty sure that what you need the most right now is some space to process...everything."

He was right, of course. He still knew her well. But..."Just a moment," she said to the driver, stepping out of the cab and back onto the sidewalk to face Logan.

"I won't be able to sleep, Logan, if I don't at least say this. I should have reached out to you years ago. Called. Or written. Something." 

Veronica took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Thank you," she said.

Logan smiled at her, but his eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

Veronica returned his smile. "For Stanford," she said. "That was such an incredibly generous thing for you to do. And at first, I was so...angry." Her smile softened. "But...I shouldn't have been. I know you did it because you wanted to make my life easier. And you did. So thank you."

Logan smiled down at her and, on impulse, Veronica reached out and softly touched his hand. It was just a light stroke across his palm, but Logan caught his breath in surprise. It was the first time she'd touched him in nearly six years and for a moment neither of them could move, or look away, or even breathe.

Then Veronica shook herself a little, stepped back into the taxi, and was whisked away into the night.

And Logan was left standing on the sidewalk, wondering how, if a single touch of her hand could have such an effect on him, he was ever going to be able to part with her yet again.

xxxxxxxx

Matthew Garcia had not had a good evening, and if he were another sort of man, one whose entire life hadn't been focused on maintaining control of himself and his surroundings, he might even now be flinging things around his condo or drinking himself into oblivion. But Matthew knew he couldn't afford such self-indulgence. What he really needed to do was think, because this situation had disaster written all over it.

He knew he'd have to tell them. He hoped that Veronica would be willing to continue accompanying him to dinners and other political events, because she had said she wasn't breaking the engagement. But she'd taken off the ring, and that would be noticed immediately.

Matthew needed to do what he could to cover himself, to control the situation, and that began with a phone call.

"Good evening, Padrino," he said, his voice ingratiating, "I hope I'm not calling too late."

A pause.

"Yes, well something has come up, Padrino, and I thought I should let you know right away that perhaps...perhaps I won't be marrying Veronica after all. At least, not right away."

Another pause.

"No, there is no one else that I could..."

"Yes, I understand how vital this is, how long the plans have been in the making..."

"Tomorrow? Of course, Padrino, it's always a pleasure to see you. I look forward to it."

Matthew hung up the phone. Fuck, I hadn't thought things could get any worse. But they just did.


	10. Part II - Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, italics were not retained when the chapter posted. Anything in the first person should have been italicized as the thoughts of the character. Sorry for any confusion.

Part II - Chapter 5

He wasn't sure if he was being prudent or just indulging in some wishful thinking, but Logan had been careful to make sure his phone was set to "ring" while it recharged overnight. Although he knew it was unlikely that Veronica would call while he was sleeping, he hadn't wanted to take the chance. But the phone had remained stubbornly silent, and he awoke on Saturday not to a ringing phone but to the sun filtering through the half-closed blinds.

He pulled himself out of bed and headed to the shower, hoping she wouldn't decide to call in the next few minutes. While the warm water cascaded over his body, he let his mind wander as he considered everything that had happened in the past ten days.

Logan didn't kid himself. It had been a blow to hear from Cliff that Veronica had a fiancé, but he knew he'd eventually have to accept it. But first, he'd just wanted make sure that the man was someone who was...worthy of Veronica. So he'd gotten himself invited to the Farnsworths' dinner, where he'd expected to meet a charismatic firebrand who'd made it all the way from his humble beginnings to the top of the food chain through a combination of intelligence, ambition, and pluck. A male version of Veronica, perhaps, with a bent for politics. He'd expected to be impressed.

Instead, he'd met a careful man, who'd clearly married his way into the best circles and who seemed less suited for politics than almost anyone Logan had met. 

Logan had purposely remained at the Farnsworth dinner after Veronica left to hear what Garcia had to say for himself. He'd listened attentively while the candidate regurgitated all the right answers when asked about his reasons for running for office: his feeling of obligation to help his community, the corruption that was rampant in many local governments, how it had been his lifelong dream to become California Attorney General. Blah, blah, blah. And the others at the table had all nodded and smiled like sheep, and pledged their support as well as their dollars.

But Logan had a bullshit meter that had been finely calibrated against the grandiose ramblings of that king of bastards, Aaron Echolls. Almost from birth, he'd learned to distinguish sincerity from utter crap, and he just fucking knew that somebody else had written those lines that Garcia was spouting, and that he was tossing them off because that's what was expected. And his delivery wasn't even that good. Logan figured that with his own thespian genes, he could have done a hell of a lot better job himself.

So he'd come away from the dinner...puzzled. And wary. And wanting some answers.

He'd gone to Garcia's the next night, hoping to figure out what made the man so fucking appealing to Veronica, and why the hell she'd ever agreed to marry him. Because he knew damned well it wasn't the rock that she'd been wearing on her finger.

Logan continued his musings as he dried himself off and pulled clean clothes out of his suitcase. After the dinner at the Farnsworths', he'd been pretty damned sure that he didn't like Matthew Garcia, and that he never would, but he had supposed that his reaction might stem from feelings of jealousy or possessiveness. After the dinner at Garcia's, he'd adjusted that opinion. Now he knew that the man was a pretentious prick, and that he would have despised him no matter how they'd met. Logan had always been a good judge of character, and he knew that Matthew Garcia was a self-important jerk, and worse, that he seemed to think of Veronica as one of his possessions. 

He grimaced then, remembering that he himself hadn't exactly been the poster child for good behavior the night before, either. Logan had wanted prove to Veronica that he'd changed, that he'd at last learned to exercise some self-restraint. But instead, he'd only succeeded in making himself look like an idiot. 

Logan sighed. All those years gaining control of his temper and he'd just reverted right back to jackass mode. Blurted out information that he'd known was bound to shock her even as it was spilling out of his mouth. He hadn't done anything quite so stupid in a long, long time.

By rights, Veronica should have been pissed as hell, but somehow...she wasn't. He'd expected to find her long gone by the time he'd finally made it out of Garcia's building. Instead, he'd found her leaning against the building hugging herself, and he'd wanted to kick himself for proving to her that he was still an insensitive asshole.

But she hadn't been angry so much as bewildered. And he could relate. He'd felt that way himself just a few days before, and he desperately needed to explain it all to her. But he wouldn't be able to do that until she called and they set up a...meeting.

He was just about to say "Screw the waiting," and call her when his phone beeped and a text appeared. From Veronica.

Can't do today, it said. Tomorrow 2pm Japanese Tea Garden?

OK, he responded, biting back his disappointment that he'd have to wait yet another day to talk to her.

His phone beeped again. Do you know where it is? 

Logan chuckled. Typical Veronica. She'd make the arrangements to suit herself, and only then worry about whether or not they were workable.

I'll find it, he texted back. He had some idea that it was in the park, but he'd figure it out if it took him all day.

Tomorrow. Damn. He was wondering how he was going to fill the empty day that now stretched before him when his phone actually rang. Logan snatched it up and pressed "Answer," hoping to hear that Veronica had reconsidered. But it was a different female on the other end of the line.

"Hi, Logan?" The voice was bright and cheery. "I hope I didn't wake you. I'm not usually up this early, but my body clock is still all screwed up." 

Logan did some quick mental gymnastics. "Evie?" he said. He was surprised to hear from her. He smirked. Well, perhaps not altogether.

"Yes, it's Evie. Sorry, didn't I say that?" She sounded a little breathless, as though she'd just finished a run.

Logan laughed. "No," he said, "you skipped that part. But I managed to figure it out."

Evie laughed, too. "Yep, my mom keeps telling me I need to improve my 'social graces'. That's what she calls it. 'Social graces'."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't worry about it. At least not as far as I'm concerned. I'm not exactly known for my good manners either. Although, like yours, my mother did try." At least sometimes, he thought. She tried sometimes.

"So what can I do for Evie Garcia today?" he asked, a smile in his voice. He'd already learned that Evie could be outrageous. And she seemed very young for her age, or maybe he was just very old for his. But he liked her. She somehow reminded him of another young girl he'd known a long time ago, who'd also said outrageous things and dressed provocatively to annoy her parents.

"You can take me to lunch," she said. It was the last thing he'd expected.

"Uh, Evie, I'm not sure that's a good idea." He tried to let her down gently.

"Why?" she asked. "Because you and my father don't like each other?" He was beginning to think that Evie had never heard of subtlety. Or perhaps she just didn't believe in it.

Logan had no idea how to respond to her question, but it didn't matter. Any response would have been superfluous, because Evie just wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. She continued to wheedle, using a tone that with anyone else Logan would have found annoying, but with Evie Garcia, he simply found amusing.

"The thing is, Logan, one of my friends had actually heard of you. She kept insisting that I really couldn't have met you because you never leave Neptune." She paused, exasperated, "Where the hell is Neptune, anyway?"

Logan couldn't help the bark of laughter that erupted. He hadn't met anyone so delightfully sassy in a long time. Or so totally tactless. She was like one of those madcap heiresses in the very old black and white movies that he'd sometimes watched with his mother when he was little. Carole Lombard. Myrna Loy. Claudette Colbert. He remembered them all fondly. She was Carole, Myrna, Claudette, and all the others, but with a Latin twist.

"So if we were to go to lunch," he said, the laughter still in his voice, "is there any chance that one or more of your disbelieving girlfriends might just happen by?" 

"Er, that is a possibility," Evie said, sounding a little more confident now that it seemed she might get what she wanted. "So you'll come?"

"Why not?" Logan said. "I find myself unexpectedly free today. Why don't I pick you up? Say around one?" 

"It's a date!" Evie laughed. "I'll meet you in front of the building."

Logan hung up thinking about his plan to spend the better part of his afternoon playing the amusing charmer for a bunch of rich late-adolescent females. Shades of his not-so-distant past.

xxxxxxxx

He'd assured Matthew he'd be there by mid-morning, but ten o'clock came and went, and then eleven, and still Padrino had not arrived. Matthew felt that he would jump out of his skin if he had to wait much longer. He knew he was in for a dressing down. But what could he do? He could not marry a woman who was still married to someone else.

Matthew chafed at being put in this position. At having to defend his actions. At having to explain to anyone else something as personal as what woman he chose to be with. 

He had known Padrino for more than 30 years, since he was in his early teens, and Matthew had always looked up to him, been in awe of him. Padrino had been kind and encouraging, and Matthew had basked in his approval. But then, Matthew had always met or exceeded the expectations that had been set for him, so why should he not have had that approval?

But now - now they had asked something of him for which he had slowly come to realize he was not at all suited. He did not enjoy the constant networking and politicking. Matthew had worked hard to become successful, and now he wanted to enjoy the fruits of that success, not spend his time ingratiating himself to strangers. And in the greatest of all ironies, if he was successful in his quest, he would be forced to work for a pittance compared to what he could be making in his law practice. 

But one did not refuse a...request...from such men.

So he'd found himself preparing to declare his candidacy for California Attorney General. Padrino had insisted that a single man would not be as appealing to the electorate. He might be seen as a player, and what the voters wanted was a 'family man'. Matthew had already been dating Veronica for a few months, and it was suggested that he should become engaged.

Matthew smiled wryly. Perhaps 'suggested' was not precisely the correct word.

Matthew had been relieved when Veronica had agreed to his proposal. He doubted he could find anyone else who suited him so well. He'd hoped that after the primaries were over and he had the party's nomination in hand, he could persuade Veronica to marry him with little fanfare.

And now...this. Matthew would make it his business to ensure that this time her divorce went through as quickly as possible. Because until that happened, he knew that she wouldn't put that ring back on her finger. And the man who had been his mentor for so many years would be seriously displeased.

Matthew was relieved when he heard a knock on the door around noon. Evie was thankfully in her room getting ready for an outing with her friends, so Matthew let his visitor in himself and ushered him into his office.

"Can I get you anything, Padrino?" he asked cordially. "Some coffee or water? Perhaps a glass of Merlot?

"No, Mateo. This is not a time of day during which I generally imbibe."

"And your...friend? Out in the hallway?"

The older man just grunted. "He does not need anything. He is only here to see to my needs, Stop hovering, Mateo. Sit, sit."

Matthew seated himself at one end of the large couch, while the older man took the other end. No one called him 'Mateo' anymore, except for Padrino. Is he trying to remind me of who I am, where I came from? If he only knew that I can never forget, no matter how hard I try.

"So what is this new complication with the lovely Veronica, Mateo?" Padrino had never met Veronica, nor was he likely to, but he'd seen pictures of her.

"Uh, there's been a slight hitch in our...plans. For the time being, Veronica has...removed her engagement ring."

"So, she's broken the engagement?" the older man asked, displeased and waiting for an explanation.

"No...but she...doesn't want to wear the ring. It's...temporary."

"You are not making sense, Mateo. If she has not broken the engagement, why give back the ring?"

"Well, uh, it's a strange situation. Veronica was married once before, when she was very young..."

Padrino frowned. "Very young? She is not so old now," he said. "Why have I not heard about this early marriage before now?"

"It...it didn't seem relevant." And besides, she never told me. But he knew better than to part with that information. "But...as it turns out, there was some...irregularity with her divorce. A, uh, technical thing. She just found this out," Matthew hastened to add.

"So all this time you have been courting a woman who was already married?" Padrino was quick to get to the point. "Who else knows about this?" he asked, his voice harsh and his expression severe.

"No one." Matthew rushed to reassure him. "She told me about it immediately. She was shocked." Well, it was almost the truth.

"And...the husband?" The older man got right to the heart of the matter. "He won't be causing any trouble, or trying to blackmail you while this 'technical thing' is resolved?"

"No, no." Matthew tried to picture the extremely wealthy Echolls attempting to extort money from him. "That's not going to happen. They hadn't seen each other in years before this came to light. It will just take a few weeks to straighten it all out. But in the meantime, she...didn't feel right about wearing the ring."

Padrino was silent for a moment, thoughtful. "You assured me that Veronica was the right person," he finally said.

"She is, Padrino, she is," Matthew said hurriedly. "She's brilliant and beautiful..." 

"All well and good, Mateo." His voice was cold. "But something like this could ruin you. No matter how attractive she is, if this gets out, it won't help you win an election." 

"It will all be taken care of within a very short time." Matthew rushed in. "And Veronica is worth the wait. These days, the public expects more from the wives of elected officials than they used to. More than just smiles and a nice dress. Veronica is brilliant and articulate. She could be a great asset..."

"Could be, Mateo?" His tone was sharp. "She must be the person who can help you win this election. This is our one chance to ensure that the Attorney General's office is...sympathetic to our needs."

His look became pointed, his voice deliberate. "And I know I do not have to remind you that this is your opportunity to repay all the...kindnesses that you have received over the years. Nothing that is given to you in this life comes without obligations. You may have forgotten that in your zeal to become the important San Francisco lawyer, but the time has come for you to give back to those who made it possible."

His voice was deceptively soft. "We won't have another chance at the Attorney General's office if you fail." For the first time in the many years he'd known Padrino, Matthew looked at the man and felt a chill.

"I know you understand, Mateo." His voice, usually warm like honey, was cold as ice. "Failure will not be acceptable."

Matthew nodded his head. "Is there any way in which I can demonstrate to you that my assurances are justified?"

Padrino smiled suddenly, and Matthew was inexplicably reminded of a shark he'd seen once on a school visit to the aquarium when he was a boy.

"Bring your beautiful Veronica to the charity ball next weekend." He laughed a little, and Matthew shuddered inwardly, recognizing for the first time the coldness in his eyes. "Who knows which charity it is? It doesn't matter. It only matters that you be seen there with your woman and that you look the part. That you convince all those Anglo bigwigs you're so friendly with that the boy from the barrios deserves their support."

He paused. "If you can't get her to do that much, Mateo, we may need to rethink your Veronica."

"What...what does that mean, Padrino?" His voice was so faint could hardly hear it himself.

"We won't worry about that now, Mateo," he said. 

By the time the older man left, Matthew was practically shaking, but he wasn't sure whether it was from fear or anger.

xxxxxxxx

When Logan pulled up to the curb near Garcia's building at one o'clock, Evie was nowhere in sight. He had to maneuver to find a temporary parking spot because directly in front of the building a large, chauffeured vehicle was taking up most of the available space. He shook his head and reflected that the waiting was also reminiscent of his adolescence.

When Evie came through the door just a minute or two later, she appeared to be in the company of two men, one considerably older even than Garcia, and the other...

Logan did a double-take. He knew that face, but he couldn't quite put a name to it. It was a Neptune connection, he was sure if it. So what was he doing here? Logan grabbed his phone impulsively and started snapping pictures of the two men. 

He thought it was possible that she'd just happened to come out of the building at the same time as the men, until the older man leaned over and kissed Evie on the cheek, confirming that she knew them. Logan ducked down instinctively, but there was no need. The two men were paying no attention to his car or its occupant as they entered the chauffeured vehicle. 

"Friends of yours?" Logan asked as Evie got into his car.

"Old friend of Daddy's," she answered. "He kind of gives me the creeps, but he's Daddy's padrino so I have to tolerate him."

"Padrino?" Logan asked.

"Yeah," she said, "like his sponsor...or his mentor. Daddy's always complaining that my Spanish sucks." She tossed her head. "But just because my name is Garcia doesn't mean I should know how to speak Spanish." 

Logan was amused by her attitude, but still curious about the man. About the pair of men.

"And what about the other man?" he asked her.

"Him? I don't know. He's just one of Padrino's flunkies."

"Flunkies?"

"Yeah. Padrino's been visiting Daddy for years and he always has some young guy with him to open the door for him, help him on with his coat..." she gave Logan a pert look. "Wipe his ass."

Logan laughed on cue. "So he's...no one special."

"Nope. Don't think I've ever seen that one before. He's better than some of them," she added. "At least this one was respectful, didn't try to look down my dress."

Curiouser and curiouser, Logan thought. "Where to, Madam?" he asked Evie as he pulled away from the curb. 

"Do you know how to get to the waterfront?" she said, laughing. "I have a strong feeling that a couple of my friends might be hanging around there today."

"As you wish," he said smiling.

As he'd predicted, Logan spent the next three hours regaling Evie and her friends with stories about Neptune and other aspects of his life that he didn't mind sharing. But he was also able to casually extract information about Matthew Garcia's life as a boy. Evie didn't know much, but what she did know was in Logan's possession by the end of the afternoon.

After he dropped off Evie at her door, Logan thought again about the pictures in his phone, about Garcia's mysterious "padrino," and about why he might have a "flunky" who hailed from Neptune. 

He pulled his phone out as he maneuvered the car along the city's hilly streets and punched in a familiar name. Maybe he'd visit an old friend and get some technical assistance with the pictures at the same time.

"Hey, Mac," he said when she answered. "You'll never guess where I am."

"Oh, I think I might," she said. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming north?"

"I thought I'd surprise you," he said, "but I guess I'm too late."

"You might say that," she said. 

"So how'd you like some company? I'd like to see that condo you keep bragging about, and I might even be persuaded to buy you dinner."

"I've already got company," she said vaguely. 

Logan paused.

"You got a new guy you haven't told me about?" he asked.

"Not exactly," she responded with a sigh.

Logan stilled. "Is Veronica there now?" He really didn't even have to ask.

"Kind of," she said, and he could hear the discomfort in her voice.

Logan thought furiously. "I'd like to see your place, Mac," he told his friend, "but I also need a little technical help with something. Uh, why don't you call me when you're free?"

"Technical help. Well, that certainly sounds intriguing," she said brightly. "I'll do that."

Logan hung up. Veronica was there. Well, he was pretty sure there was at least one bombshell he wouldn't have to drop on Mac.

xxxxxxxx

Mac pressed "End" and looked straight up into Veronica's suspicious eyes.

"That was Logan, wasn't it?" she asked Mac.

Mac sighed, not even trying to dissemble. With Veronica, it simply wasn't possible. 

"It was," she said. "He, uh, wants to see my condo since he's visiting the city...." Her voice trailed off as she realized the implications of that.

"Veronica..." she began, but that's as far as she got.

"So how long have you and Logan been in touch?" Veronica asked quietly. 

Mac sighed. "Since the beginning. Almost since you moved up here."

Veronica was bewildered. "Why? How?"

"'How' is easier," Mac answered honestly. "I drop in on him sometimes when I'm in Neptune to visit my family. We might catch a meal or have a drink. Sometimes he'll call, or I will, if we haven't seen each other for a while."

Mac hurried on, trying to explain. "I didn't want to keep it from you, Veronica, but you could barely stand to hear the name 'Logan'. Why would I tell you I'd seen him? And then...it just became habit. He was 'off limits' as a conversational topic. That's just how it was."

"But, why, Mac? You'd never been that close to Logan. I guess I just...I don't understand."

"Oh, god," she said softly. Mac had known this day would come eventually, and she'd always hoped that when it did, she'd be able to explain it to Veronica's satisfaction. 

"When everything...happened...here, Logan and I...Veronica, I sat with him for hours. Waiting, just waiting in that...hospital."

Veronica turned away. "Mac," she said. "I don't want to talk about that..."

"I know you don't," Mac said. "You never did. That was your choice and I respected it. But I had a feeling that Logan...might. He'd called me about something totally unrelated to you and I just...I suddenly thought to myself that if you'd wanted to talk, you could have talked to me. But Logan had no one. No one who knew."

 

Mac's eyes begged Veronica to understand, and not see her friendship with Logan as a betrayal.

"So...when I finally managed some time for a family visit, while I was in Neptune I went to see him. To see if he wanted to talk about...everything. And...he did."

Mac sighed and continued earnestly. "I promise you, Veronica, that except for that first time, we never discussed...you...at all. I never told him what you were up to...and he never asked. We talked about his business, if he had any new projects. I'd tell him about work. Sometimes Dick joined us for dinner."

"Dick? Dick Casablancas? Don't tell me you and Dick are buddies, too!" Veronica simply couldn't imagine it.

Mac chuckled. "I wouldn't say we're exactly friends, no, but we...tolerate each other." She shrugged. "And maybe he's grown up a little,too."

"So...you know about LEA." Veronica made it a statement.

"Logan's business? Yes, of course. Why are you asking about that?" Mac was puzzled. 

"No particular reason," Veronica lied, suddenly realizing that if she'd only known to ask Mac about 'Leah', she could have saved herself from all that...hurt. She didn't try to fool herself into thinking it had been anything else.

"I'm not upset with you Mac," she said finally. "You were being a friend to Logan when he needed one and I can't fault you for that."

"I'm a friend to both of you." Mac wanted to be very clear. "It hasn't been a problem up to now. And I don't see why it should be."

"It won't. It's not." Veronica hastened to assure her. "It was just such a surprise."

"Hardly the biggest one you've had this week, though," Mac suggested with a small smile.

"Nope, not hardly," Veronica agreed.

"So...what are you gonna do about that?" Mac wanted to know.

Veronica sighed. "I guess we'll talk to a lawyer about putting everything right."

"And by that you mean..."

"I mean, find out from Logan what went wrong with the...divorce...the first time, and make sure it doesn't happen again," Veronica said. "Fix it."

"Fix it? That's it? There are no other possible options, no other possible outcomes to explore?" Mac raised her brows and looked pointedly at Veronica.

"Mac, we should have been divorced six years ago. The fact that we weren't, well, it was just some kind of mistake, nothing more. Something happened, I don't know what yet, but..."

"Veronica," Mac knew she should probably butt out, but she and Veronica had been friends for a long time and she couldn't just let it go. "Did you ever think that maybe this...this glitch...or whatever the hell it was, might have happened for a reason? That maybe the universe is trying to tell you something?"

"This from you, Mac? My rational scientist? You're the one person who knows how hard I've worked to build a life for myself here. And Matthew..." Veronica paused.

"What about Matthew?" Mac asked.

"He...he fits my life." Veronica finished quietly.

"He fits your life? That's all you can say about him?" Mac bit her lip, but couldn't hold back. 

"Veronica, I was there, remember. Not just for the sad part..."

"Mac, please don't." Veronica put up her hands, as if to ward off what Mac might say next.

But Mac was on a roll by then, and wasn't going to stop until she got it all out. 

"Not only for the sad parts," she continued softly, "but for the happy parts, too. Please don't try to convince me that you and Logan..." She started again. "I've never seen two people so in love as you and Logan were that weekend before everything...went to hell. I just think...you shouldn't forget that part." 

Mac stopped abruptly as if she could hardly believe that she'd finally said the words that she'd held back for so many years.

Veronica stared at her and for a moment Mac was afraid that she'd gone too far. Then Veronica heaved a sigh.

"I...accepted Matthew's proposal, Mac." Her face was set. "I...I owe him some loyalty."

Mac was silent for a moment.

"And what about what you owe yourself?" she asked finally. "What about what you really want?"

"This is what I want," Veronica insisted.

Mac nodded. "Okay," she said, knowing it would be pointless to continue. It had never been possible to sway Veronica once she'd made up her mind. She'd always needed to figure things out for herself.

She smiled suddenly and glanced at the clock, changing the subject.

"Do you want to get some takeout?" Mac asked. "There's a great new Italian place just down the street." She figured Veronica could use some food after all the emotional conversation. They were neither of them used to it.

Not for the first time that day, Veronica surprised her.

"I'm not very hungry," she said. "I think I'll go home. I've...I've got some work to do."

"Work? But you just finished a big trial. I don't..."

"Thanks for listening, Mac," she said, picking up her handbag. "You're a good friend. I...I'll think about what you said." She smiled softly as she opened the door and said, "and I'm pretty sure you could talk Logan into the Italian takeout."

Then she was gone, and Mac was left wondering if she'd said too much...or not enough.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica was right. When she returned his call, Mac was more successful in interesting Logan in the new Italian restaurant, particularly when he heard its name.

"La Dolce Vita?" he said, chuckling. "Who could resist? I'll be ordering the Tortellini Fellini."

When he showed up an hour later, he was carrying a large takeout bag that was redolent of garlic and oregano. Mac unpacked it and set the food out on the small table in her dining alcove.

"This place is great, Mac," Logan said, looking around. "I'd say the bragging is justified."

"Says the man with the multi-million dollar beach house," Mac scoffed. 

"Well, a house on the beach would make it easier for you get more surfing in," he agreed.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a laugh, as she ate her Tomato Risotto and sipped her wine. "So, what kind of technical assistance do you need? I'm always looking for a challenge."

Logan's brows rose. "So we're just going there directly, huh, Mac? We're skipping right over everything Veronica must have told you when she was here?"

"Logan..." Mac sighed. "You know I won't talk to you about Veronica. You've never put me in the middle like that. Please don't start now."

Logan dropped his fork onto his plate and studied her intently.

"Okay, let's not talk about the fact that Veronica and I are still married. Let's talk about Garcia instead," he tried.

"Logan," Mac chastised him. "You can't possibly expect me to discuss Veronica's personal life."

Logan threw up his hands in frustration. "By all means, Mac, let's not talk about my wife or her fiancé, because that's just none of my fucking business."

Mac was sympathetic. "Logan, I know you want to have this conversation, but you need to have it with Veronica, not with me." 

"Okay, fine!" he said, glowering. He stabbed his fork into his lasagna and ate quietly for a few minutes before speaking again.

"Just tell me one thing, Mac, and then I'll stop bugging you."

"If I can," she said warily.

Logan wondered how he could phrase his question so that Mac might actually answer it.

"You've met Garcia, right?"

Mac nodded. "Yes," she said. "A few times, but I don't know him well."

"Okay. So tell me honestly, would you be happy to see Veronica married to him?"

"Well," she said, "it's Veronica who has to...to like him."

Logan's eyebrows rose and he said, "That's not what I asked, Mac." 

Mac paused. "Fine," she responded. "Let's just say that I wouldn't be unhappy to find that she wasn't going to marry him."

Logan smirked. "Good enough," he said, satisfied.

"And now that you've wormed that out of me," Mac wanted to know, "what's this technical assistance you require from your computer genius friend?"

"I thought 'genius' was overstating it, Mac?" he reminded her.

"I've reconsidered," she said with a smile.

Logan laughed and pulled out his phone, accessing the pictures he'd taken outside Garcia's building earlier that day.

"I took some pictures of a couple of guys, one older and one about our age." He showed the pictures to Mac. "The young guy...does he seem at all familiar to you?"

Mac took a look and said instantly, "Neptune High, PCHer. Scary guy." Then added, "Can't remember his name."

"PCHer! What the hell is wrong with me?" Logan's arms flailed around as he berated himself for not making the obvious connection.

"Look," he asked her, "can you...using your mad computer skills...separate the two men...and maybe remove the background...so I can get two separate pictures, but nothing to show where they were taken?"

"Oh, the things people ask me to do," Mac said with a smile, uploading the images into her computer and beginning the task of creating what Logan had asked for.

"I'll clean these up a little, too," she said. "I think I can make their faces a little clearer."

Mac paused, looking at him out if the corner of her eye. "And then you're going to tell me what this is all about."

"When I figure it out, I will," he promised.

As soon as Mac finished and uploaded the new pictures into Logan's phone, he sent a text to Weevil and attached the picture of the younger man. The text said simply, "Do you know this guy?"

They didn't have to wait long. When his phone rang, he knew it was Weevil before he even checked the Caller ID.

Without preamble, Weevil barked into the phone, "Where did you get that picture?"

"Why?" Logan asked him.

"Because that's my cousin Chardo, and I haven't seen him in almost five years!"

"Chardo! Shit, I should've remembered. Weevil, what's Chardo doing these days?"

"I don't know exactly, man, but whatever it is, it ain't good. He's like the, what do you call it, the black sheep in my family. And that's sayin' somethin', because the Navarros ain't exactly choir boys...as you know."

Logan suddenly had a very bad feeling. "Weevil, this is important. Can you find out what Chardo has gotten himself mixed up in? Who he works for?"

"I don't know, Logan. My grandma might know something, but she's not gonna want to talk to me about it."

Logan paused, not sure exactly how much to tell Weevil. 

"Weevs, if I tell you that this involves...Veronica's welfare, would that give you some incentive to find out?"

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line. 

"Logan...you've seen V? Is she okay?"

"She is...for now. Look," he continued, "can you go see Lety tonight? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important."

Weevil caught the edge of concern in Logan's tone. "Let me see what I can find out," he said.

xxxxxxxx

Leticia Navarro had had to raise several of her grandchildren, and most of them were grateful. But none showed his gratitude more than her grandson Eli. 

Lety had never known where he got the money, but Eli had assured her it was completely legitimate. So she could do nothing but thank him when he'd found a way to buy the small house that she'd been living in for the past ten years while she was raising his cousin Diego. Now Diego was at college - gracias a dios - and since he was the youngest, the last she'd had to raise, she was able to take her ease in her own home. 

When Eli showed up unexpectedly that Saturday night, Lety was busy watching reruns of The Golden Girls on the new flat-screen TV that they'd all chipped in to buy her last Christmas. She often wondered about those "girls." It seemed that in their whole life, none of them had ever had to do anything more difficult than keep a husband happy. But still, she had to laugh at their antics. And Lety could always use a good laugh.

"Whatcha doin', abuela," Eli said as he walked into her house. Lety smiled. Eli always said the same thing every time he came in the door. But it was Saturday, not Monday. What was he doing here? Letty liked things to stay in a nice, predictable rhythm, because when there was a change in the rhythm, that's when there was trouble.

"And what else would I be doing on a Saturday night, Eli, but watching The Golden Girls? The real question is why are you here on Saturday? Shouldn't you be taking your beautiful wife somewhere nice instead of visiting me?"

"What? I can't come over on a Saturday?" Eli smiled at her fondly, kissing her on the cheek. "Besides, Marisol is pretty tired still, abuela. The baby just started sleeping through the night, so she's not really feelin' like kickin' up her heels."

"You know I would be happy to come over and give her a little rest, Eli. Take care of my great-grandchild." Lety loved to say the word, and she smiled often just remembering that she really had a great-grandchild.

"Pretty soon," he said. "As soon as she's just a little bigger. Right now, it's hard to get Marisol to leave her."

"So what is it, Eli? I know you're here for a reason," she said.

"Yeah." Weevil wasn't sure how to start, so he finally just dived right in. "What do you know...what do you hear...about Chardo?"

It was the last thing Lety had expected. "Why are you asking about Chardo?" she said.

Weevil wasn't sure what to tell her because Logan hadn't given him any details.

"He was...seen somewhere." he finally said.

"Seen by who? And...where?"

"By Logan," he said. "He never said where."

"By Mr. Logan? But how could that be?" Lety was perplexed.

Weevil shook his head and smiled at her. "You know Logan would be upset if he heard you call him that, abuela," he said.

"Ah, it just comes naturally to the tongue," she said, shaking her head. "So many years I watched that sad little boy grow up." 

Weevil had heard similar sentiments from his grandmother over the years, but she'd never explain, and he finally stopped asking. 

She brightened suddenly. "But when I saw him at your wedding, I couldn't believe what a fine man he is now. He kept talking about how sorry he was about evicting us from that other house. But what did I care? We moved in here. It was bigger, better. And besides," she looked sideways at her grandson, "I know you had something to do with that, Eli. You caused him some trouble and so he made trouble for you."

"Me and Logan, we made our peace a long time ago, abuela," her grandson assured her. "We've been friends for a while now and...he's helped me out, gave me a chance to do some things...and now he's asked me for help. He needs to know about Chardo."

Lety sighed. "You know I don't like to talk about Chardo. He was not a good boy, not even when he was little." Lety crossed herself. It made her sick at heart to speak ill of her grandson, but, after all, the truth was the truth.

"Chardo...the last time he got out of prison, I went to pick him up, but he told me he had made other arrangements."

"You never told me this," Weevil said.

"No, Eli, because you didn't need to know, and because I was...ashamed."

Lety paused. "I saw the man who picked him up. I didn't know his name, but I'd seen him driving around in a big flashy car and I knew what that meant. He was one of those men who come into our neighborhoods with their drugs and their guns and take our sons. Take the weak ones, like Chardo."

Lety finally looked up at him with sad eyes. "Chardo is one of those men now, Eli. And wherever he is, whatever he's doing, I don't want to know about it."

xxxxxxxx

Logan had left Mac's and was on his way back to the St. Regis when he got Weevil's call.

"Where are you?" Weevil asked, as soon as Logan answered.

"I'm in the car, on my way back to the hotel."

"Yeah, and where is the hotel, you jackass?"

"Oh, shit, Weevil. I never said, did I? I'm in San Francisco. I had...some business up here."

"So you saw Chardo in San Francisco? That's a surprise."

"Hang on, Weevs," Logan said, "I'm just pulling into the garage."

"Yeah, that's good, Logan, because if this has something to do with V, well, you shouldn't be driving when I tell you what I found out about Chardo."

Logan's heart started hammering. He just fucking knew there'd been something wrong about Garcia. And he was going to find out what the hell it was.

"Okay, I've parked. What is it?" Anxiety made his voice harsh.

"Shit, Logan, you're gonna have to let me know what the hell is going on. Abuela...my grandma told me that Chardo got himself mixed up with some drug dealers, but she doesn't know who they are, or who they work for."

Logan was silent for so long that Weevil thought that the call had dropped.

"Logan?" he finally said.

"Yeah, I'm here, Weevs." Logan was trying to absorb what Weevil had just told him. And to decide what do next.

"I...need to make another call, Weevil. Thanks for getting the information, but I need to get off the phone now."

"What the fuck, Logan! You ain't gonna just leave me like this after tellin' me that this has something to do with V."

"I don't really know how it connects up, but I'm sure as hell going to find out. I'll be back in Neptune soon, Weevil, and we'll talk."

"Yeah, I'm holding you to that," Weevil said. "And Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

Logan sighed. "Yeah, I think you can count on that," he said.

As soon as he hung up with Weevil, Logan placed a call to another number in Neptune.

"Keith," he said, as soon as the man answered. "It's Logan. I need you to do something for me, and to just trust me that it's important enough for you to give up your Sunday."

"What do you need, Logan?" Keith asked, immediately apprehensive, because Logan hadn't quite managed to conceal his anxiety.

"I'm going to send you a picture of a man. I...We need to find out who he is. Keith, if you know anyone at all who has access to some facial-recognition software, I need you to call him and find out this guy's name."

"Where are you now, Logan?" Keith asked.

"I'm in San Francisco." Logan offered no further explanation, but he knew that Keith would have no trouble connectIng the dots.

There was a long pause.

"Does this have anything to do with my daughter?" Keith asked finally.

"I'm not sure," Logan said honestly. "But I've got a terrible feeling that it might."

"What's going on, Logan?" Keith wasn't letting this go.

Logan sighed. It really wasn't up to him to tell Veronica's father about their failed divorce, so he didn't want to have to explain his presence in Veronica's immediate vicinity until he absolutely had to. But he needed Keith on board. Needed his help.

"I would tell you if I could, but right now, my hands are tied." He paused. "Please, Keith. I would never ask for something like this if it weren't important."

Keith was silent for nearly a minute.

"Will you give me your assurance that what you're asking of me won't hurt Veronica?" 

Logan paused, trying to come up with an honest response.

"What I can assure you is that if we don't look into this man, then we may have failed to protect Veronica from a dangerous situation." 

"Okay, Logan," Keith said after a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Logan uploaded the picture to Keith, and he probably should have felt some relief at sharing the burden, but he knew he'd be uneasy until they figured out exactly what - and who - they were dealing with.


	11. Part II - Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please note all italics disappear when posting to AO3, and cannot be edited back in. This would include anything written in the first person, which are meant to convey the thoughts of the character.

Part II - Chapter 6

Keith Mars could count on one hand the number of times that he'd heard from Logan Echolls in the last six years. So when Logan called that Saturday evening as Keith was finishing his takeout Pad Thai, he knew that there had to be an important reason.

He'd often regretted that he hadn't felt able to keep in closer touch with Logan. After all, they still lived in the same town, they'd both suffered a terrible loss -- and each of them dearly loved Veronica. But for both, it had simply been too painful. After Veronica left, Logan saw Keith as the family that he'd almost had within his grasp, but had ultimately lost. And Logan was a distressing reminder to Keith of the terrible tragedy that his daughter had suffered, and how helpless he had felt when it all happened.

Keith remembered vividly the day Veronica told him that Logan wouldn't fight a divorce, that he would make it easy for her to have what she'd been insisting for weeks that she wanted. And how she'd closed herself off inside her bedroom afterwards, while he listened to her sobbing for hours. 

That day had served as a poignant reminder that no matter how old your children are, you still ache for them when they're unhappy. And that sometimes, however misguided they may be, you're forced to stand aside and watch them as they rush headlong in the wrong direction.

So he'd sat back while his only daughter grieved for her dead child and then compounded that grief by throwing away a relationship that Keith knew she valued more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. Perhaps most especially to herself.

There was some irony, he knew, in his championing the marriage between his daughter and Logan Echolls. Logan had never been his favorite candidate for any type of relationship with Veronica. Even when Logan had been just a kid, Keith had considered him a wise-ass punk, with too much money and too little discipline. 

So he'd never have picked him out for Veronica, never have wanted Logan to become so important to her, certainly never have chosen him as a son-in-law. Over the years, he'd spent plenty of time watching Logan and Veronica as they struggled endlessly to reconcile their intense feelings for one another with their apparently incompatible personalities. In hindsight, he'd often wondered if that was all he'd wanted to see, if that was all he'd let himself see.

Keith thought about how people sometimes surprised you. Logan Echolls had surprised him. In many ways, Logan Echolls had amazed him.

When they'd first told him about the baby, Keith had accepted it quietly because he hadn't really had a choice in the matter, and because the idea of a grandchild was not an altogether unpleasant one. But he'd held himself in readiness because he'd had serious doubts that Logan Echolls could ever have any idea how to be a father.

But then Keith had watched as impending fatherhood wrought some astonishing changes in Logan. Almost from the beginning, Keith saw the mantle of maturity land on Logan's shoulders and begin to alter every facet of his personality. He seemed to have a picture in his head of what a father should be, and was determined to reinvent himself to be that person.

So when they told him they were getting married, he'd found that he was surprisingly optimistic about the idea. He couldn't imagine how Logan had persuaded Veronica, but Keith had been just old-fashioned enough to be happy that his daughter would not be an unwed mother, that she she was marrying her baby's father. And besides, Keith knew very well that despite his own longstanding objections, Veronica had been in love with Logan Echolls for years. 

From everything he'd witnessed, things had been working out between them, they were getting along better than ever, and he could truthfully say that he'd never seen his daughter so happy.

And then tragedy had struck, cruelly and without warning.

As Keith tossed out his empty takeout cartons and cleaned his small kitchen, he thought about how much his views on Logan Echolls had changed over the years. He thought about the person that Logan had become, about the successful business that he'd built, about the quiet way he lived his life. And although he knew it was nothing whatsoever to do with him, Keith was unable to prevent himself from feeling some pride in Logan's accomplishments.

Not for the first time, Keith Mars found himself regretting that Logan Echolls was no longer his son-in-law.

When Keith moved to his laptop to open Logan's email, he saw that there was a short message included with the photo. "Not sure," Logan had written, "but this guy could be connected to drug dealers."

Drug dealers? What the hell! And this somehow involved Veronica?

Keith opened the picture and knew immediately that he'd never seen the man before. He wasn't a young man; Keith estimated he was in his sixties, a Latino, dressed in what appeared to be a very expensive suit. There was nothing special about him, nothing that would make him stand out. 

He thought very carefully then about who he might reach out to for help. Keith valued and trusted each of the many law enforcement contacts that he'd made during his decade and more as a private investigator, but this was different. If Veronica was involved, even peripherally, Keith wanted not only a good contact, he wanted a discreet one. One who would understand that his first priority would be to protect his child.

So, really, there was only one name that made sense. They hadn't spoken for a while, but Keith knew that Leo D'Amato would help him, no questions asked. Leo was now a detective with the San Diego Police Department, but he'd never have been a cop at all if Keith had chosen to pursue charges against him after he'd stolen the infamous Lilly Kane sex tapes and sold them to Logan Echolls. So Leo owed Keith. 

Keith scrolled down his contact list until he found Leo's cell number and pressed Send.

"Keith Mars! Or at least that's what my Caller ID says," was Leo's ebullient greeting.

"It doesn't lie, Leo," Keith said. "How are you?"

"I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," Leo laughed. "Keith Mars never calls just to inquire about my health."

"You got me," Keith admitted. "There is something I could use your help with. Uh, I know tomorrow is Sunday, and you've probably got plans for your day off..."

"Keith," Leo said. "I'm dying here. Just spit it out."

Keith considered, unsure exactly how much to tell Leo. He decided to leave Logan's name out of it for the moment, since the name 'Logan Echolls' was bound to remind Leo of events he'd no doubt sooner forget.

"Something's come up in a...situation I'm...involved in..." Keith didn't want to actually lie to Leo.

"Keith!" Leo stopped him. "Since when do you beat around the bush?"

"Okay, Leo," Keith sighed, "since you insist, here it is. I've got a picture of a guy, I think he may be a bad guy, and I need to figure out who he is."

He stopped.

"And...that's it?" Leo asked, sure that Keith had left something out.

"Your detective skills have improved," Keith said, giving up any pretense that this was an ordinary request for assistance. "And...this could potentially involve...Veronica."

For a moment Leo was silent. "Veronica," he said without inflection.

"Look, I can explain it all, but I'd rather not do it over the phone..."

"Got a pencil?" Leo asked. "I'll give you my address. I didn't have any plans for tomorrow anyway."

xxxxxxxx

When Veronica awoke on Sunday morning, it was with a feeling of relief that she'd managed a few hours of sleep. 

This is the day. It had been the first thought in her head that morning. 

This was the day she would talk with Logan, hear his explanation, find out what had gone wrong with the divorce.

This was the day she would talk with Logan, hear about his life, find out what was important to him now.

Veronica had put off talking to Logan the day before for a lot of reasons. She was too exhausted, she'd told herself. Too confused. She needed some time to absorb it. Make sense of it. But what she'd really needed was a good friend, a sounding board, someone to talk to. 

So she'd gone to Mac, who knew it all anyway, knew the whole story. And Mac had listened in that intense way she had of hearing everything and judging nothing, and it had been a relief to tell someone else after she'd spent a second sleepless night turning it all over in her mind.

Veronica hadn't expected - or really wanted - advice from Mac. That was the great thing about her closest female friend. She never felt obliged to tell Veronica how to live her life. Veronica counted on that. And yesterday, Mac had reacted exactly as she always had. At first.

And then Logan had called Mac, and Veronica had learned something entirely unexpected.

The news that Mac had kept in touch with Logan, had visited him in Neptune and considered him a good friend, all that could hardly be seen as a shocking revelation on par with, say, finding out that you were still married six years after you thought you'd been divorced. Nope, not even close. But still, Veronica hadn't known, and she'd felt a little...blindsided.

First Wallace, now Mac...even Weevil, for god's sake! All were friends with Logan. She was beginning to feel like she'd slipped through the looking glass. Beyond that, she admitted to herself, she was...envious. They had gotten to see Logan, talk to him, enjoy his company, and she...hadn't. 

Veronica knew her reaction was absurd. It was she, after all, who'd left Neptune, who'd left her life there. Who'd left Logan. She sighed, wishing that for once she could have a sensible response to anything that had to do with Logan Echolls.

And then there'd been those unexpected words from Mac. If there was anyone that Veronica thought she knew, it was Mac. If there was anyone whose behavior she'd thought she could predict with absolute certainly, it was Mac. But this time...this time Mac had surprised her. Because after she'd patiently listened to Veronica's tale, Mac had had something to say after all. She'd had an opinion about Veronica's personal life, and that was so unusual, so completely unheard of, that Veronica had felt compelled to listen.

"What do you really want?" Mac had asked her. 

Veronica hadn't been able to stop thinking about that question. A week ago, she'd have said she knew exactly what she wanted. A demanding professional life - and an undemanding personal life. It's what she'd worked toward ever since she'd left Neptune, her emotions battered and her heart breaking in a dozen different ways. She'd wanted to live her life so that there was no chance that she would ever again be that heartsick.

She'd known how dangerous to her peace of mind it could be to let Logan back into her life. But she'd taken one look at him at that dinner party and had felt that old pull. So she'd spent the next day trying to convince herself that her reaction had been an aberration and reminding herself how hard she'd worked to achieve equilibrium in her personal life. 

But she hadn't quite been able to ignore her overwhelming relief that there was, after all, no Leah. Or anyone else. Veronica refused to look too closely at how much that misunderstanding on her part might have informed her decision to accept first Matthew's attentions and then his proposal.

What do you really want? Damn! Mac had pared it down to the essentials and Veronica just didn't want to go there right now. Veronica decided to pull a Scarlett O'Hara and think about it tomorrow.

Just for today she wouldn't think about anything but today. She'd simply enjoy spending a few hours alone with Logan for the first time in years. Veronica admitted to herself that she was filled with nervous anticipation. God, she'd missed him! Logan could be exhausting, as well as exasperating, but he'd always made her feel so alive. Like every nerve was on full alert. 

Just by his presence, Logan had always commanded her full attention, and she'd been dismayed to find out during those two very uncomfortable dinners that she was still as fascinated by him as ever.

So she'd thought very carefully about where they should meet. Her apartment was out of the question, as was his hotel room, although she preferred not to look too closely at why that was. Neither did she want to sit across the table from him at some restaurant, where the tempo of their encounter would be dependent upon how slowly or quickly their food was served.

In the end, she'd decided on the Japanese Tea Garden, an oasis of calm and beauty in the middle of the bustling metropolis. Located at one end of Golden Gate Park, it was by far Veronica's favorite place in the city. She'd discovered it in those difficult early weeks, when she'd spent day after day just walking for hours, trying to empty her mind of loss, and her heart of sadness. Just being in the garden had never failed to bring her some measure of peace, and she'd gone there often.

There was also the added bonus that while the garden was very public, and people would be passing them as they walked or sat, no one was likely to pay them any attention, or overhear their conversation, or in any way care that they were there. They could take as long as they needed, or leave whenever they wanted. It was perfect.

It was only 10 now, and she wasn't meeting Logan until 2, and Veronica wondered how she should fill those hours. But then she remembered that her refrigerator needed cleaning, and the floors could use a scrub. Veronica had moved on to her bathroom tile when she heard her phone ring.

Oh, no, he's not canceling, is he? was her first thought. But when she looked at the Caller ID, she saw that it was Matthew. Again. She'd put him off yesterday, telling him she was too exhausted for even a short conversation, but Veronica knew that she couldn't get away with that forever.

"Hello?" she answered as though she didn't already know who it was on the other end of the line.

"Veronica! At last!" Matthew sounded exasperated. "Why didn't you call me back? I left you several messages last night."

Veronica was a little perplexed. She'd pled fatigue yesterday and was sure that would get her at least a 24-hour reprieve, but apparently Matthew thought differently.

"I was going to call you later," she said, as pleasantly as she could, considering that she was standing in her bathtub, maneuvering the phone between the sponge she held in one hand and the bottle of Tilex in the other.

"Hold on a sec," she added.

Veronica put the phone down, hopped out of the tub, and unloaded her cleaning supplies.

"I'm back," she said, picking up the phone. "What's going on, Matthew? Because I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"You're in the middle of something." Exasperation seemed to have escalated to agitation. "What could be so important that you can't talk to your...to me?" 

"I am talking to you, Matthew," Veronica pointed out. "What is it that's so urgent?"

There was a pause and she could almost hear him hesitating. But then he finally spoke.

"I was wondering about...the ball," he said.

"Ball?" She drew a blank.

"Yes, Veronica," the exasperation had returned. "The charity ball. Next weekend. The...homeless, I think," he added.

With everything that's happened in the past few days, his mind is on...a dance?

But of course, she suddenly remembered, he was still campaigning.

"What about the ball?" she asked.

"I...I just wanted to make sure that you were still planning to attend with me."

"Do you...think that's wise?" Veronica wanted to know. "Considering...everything?"

"You assured me that you were not breaking our engagement," he reminded her. "So I believe I have a..a right to ask this of you."

Veronica sighed. The very last thing she wanted to be thinking about was attending a charity ball, which was the type of event that she didn't enjoy under the best of circumstances. But neither did she want to be unfair to Matthew.

"Of course," she said finally. "if that's what you want."

"It is what I want," he answered, sounding relieved. He hesitated for just a moment. "And do you think you could wear your ring, Veronica?"

Oh, god, she thought. Did she want to put that ring back on right now?

"I'm...I'm still not sure it would be the right thing to do...under the circumstances," she said. "But I promise I'll...consider it."

She heard Matthew's sigh on the other end of the line, but he didn't pursue it.

"Very well," he said, resigned. "I'll...call later on in the week about the arrangements. Goodbye, Veronica."

Matthew had hung up before she'd even said 'goodbye'. Veronica frowned. Matthew could be impenetrable sometimes, but that conversation had seemed odd, even for him.

Veronica looked at the clock. It was already 12:15 and she suddenly remembered that the bus schedule was a little erratic on Sunday. "Shit!" she said, moving into her bedroom. Tile cleaning would have to wait for another day.

xxxxxxxx

It took less than an hour to drive from Neptune to San Diego, and Keith spent most of that time wondering how his only daughter might have gotten herself mixed up with drug dealers. In her youth Veronica had often been heedless, but Keith had thought she'd left that kind of behavior behind when she moved to the Bay Area.

Of course, there was always the possibility that this had something to do with her job. But then...why would it have been Logan who'd called? What the hell was he doing in San Francisco, anyway?

Keith sighed. He knew it was useless to speculate. He hoped to know more after he talked to Leo.

When he arrived at the address that Leo had given him, Keith was surprised to find that it wasn't an apartment or even a condo, but a small house. Leo walked out as soon as Keith pulled up, locking the door behind him.

"Nice place," Keith said, as Leo opened the passenger door and settled himself in.

"Thanks," Leo said, grinning. "I figured it was time, especially since I'm getting married in September."

"What?" Keith said. "Well, congratulations, Leo." He frowned. "So I guess I must be cutting into your time with....?"

"Lisa," Leo supplied. "And you're not. She's a nurse and had a shift today, so all you're cutting into is my planned afternoon of complete boredom. Why don't you show me that guy you're trying to identify?" he continued. "Maybe we'll get lucky and we can spend the rest of the day hanging out, drinking beer, and I can give you the 50-cent tour."

Keith pulled out his phone and found the picture, but as he'd expected, the man rang no bells for Leo.

"So we've got some pretty good face recognition software now." Leo nodded at Keith. "Just had it installed a couple of months ago. But it can be slow. It...could be hours."

"Then we'd better get started," Keith said, pulling away from the curb and heading towards the San Diego Police Department.

xxxxxxxx

As she waited near the entrance to the garden, Veronica wasn't sure whether she was more nervous or excited. She'd already seen Logan twice in the past three days, but neither time had been under the best of circumstances. They hadn't had a chance to really talk at all.

That dinner in Sausalito...she was pretty sure she'd actually stopped breathing for a few seconds when she saw him standing in the back of the room. And then the mix-up about...LEA. Veronica blushed, thinking again about her erroneous assumptions. It had been even more embarrassing the next night when Logan managed to connect the dots.

She tried not to think about the dinner at Matthew's. Rarely had an evening gone so badly. Matthew had been so angry, but she told herself that it hadn't been his fault, that she could hardly blame him. She should have told him about her marriage, but she'd kept putting it off.

And then Logan... Until he'd lost his temper so completely, he had seemed so controlled, so completely in command of himself, that Veronica had wondered if there was anything at all left of the old, headstrong Logan. 

She grinned suddenly, glad she hadn't lost her sense of humor about the crazy things that seemed to happen whenever Logan Echolls was around...

"Thinking happy thoughts about me, Mars?" His voice was suddenly in her ear.

Veronica turned and...there he was, smiling as though they hadn't spent almost six years apart, as though a walk in the park together was an everyday occurrence.

"You wish!" she shot back, and all at once her nerves evaporated.

"I did forget to tell you that there's a small fee to get into the garden," she explained.

"And I suppose you expect me to pay for you, too," he said good-naturedly.

"Well, a girl can hope," she laughed, and suddenly it felt like a walk through the Japanese Tea Garden with Logan Echolls was the most natural thing in the world. 

They entered the garden, a riot of graceful trees, shrubs, and flowers set along pathways that seemed to twist and turn in every direction. In the background, the murmur of running water could be heard as the occasional waterfall came into view. And here and there, elegant man-made structures had been placed that enhanced the garden's unique charm. 

"It's beautiful in here," Logan said, as they strolled along, careful to keep some distance between them. 

"Yes," Veronica agreed. "It's been my favorite place in the city since I first came to live in San Francisco. I'd walk here for hours trying to make sense of my life..." 

Too late, she recalled exactly who she was talking to, and her voice trailed away.

Veronica glanced up at Logan, but she couldn't discern any particular expression on his face, no shared intimacy, nothing that would remind her of the most painful experience of her life.

Veronica cleared her throat and began again. 

"So," she said, "you and Weevil, huh?"

Logan quirked an eyebrow as if to say, 'Six years and this is what you want to ask me about?'. But he was game. Anything she wanted to talk about was okay with him.

"Sure," he said with a small smile. "Why not?"

Veronica smirked at him. "Well, let me count the ways." And she proceeded to tick them off on her fingers. "Uh, Lilly, Felix, he burned down your house, you burned down the community pool, he played Russian Roulette with your body parts, you evicted his elderly grandmother, and, oh yeah, Lilly." 

She looked up at him and asked, "Do I need to go on, because I'm running out of fingers?"

Logan smiled. "Believe it or not," he said, "we put all that behind us."

"So you said," she nodded, "but what I want to know is...why?"

"I'm not sure I can explain it to you."

"Try," she said.

Logan noticed that they were approaching a stone bench that was set so naturally into the landscape that he'd almost missed it.

"Let's sit here," he said, "and I'll give it a shot."

The two of them sat on the bench, not too closely, still not touching, but not so far away that they looked like perfect strangers or even casual acquaintances.

"The safety helmet is what brought them to my door. Wallace and Weevil." He laughed suddenly, remembering. "And if you think the idea of me and Weevil is fucked up, try to imagine me and my two biggest fans sitting around my back patio having a beer."

"I can't imagine it," she admitted with a smile. The last time she'd been to his house, she remembered, there'd been nothing on the back patio to sit on.

"Yeah, if you'd asked me the day before it happened, I'd have said there wasn't a chance in hell I'd be sharing a beer with either of them. Yet, there we were, not only sharing a beer, but finding a way to help kids play safer, coming up with a business plan, making it happen."

"Having an adventure," she added, smiling at his enthusiasm.

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly. 

"Do you get this excited over all your products?" she wanted to know.

"Well, they all had something unique that made me want to...get involved. That's why I named my business Logan Echolls Adventures, instead of something more...conventional. But this one...this adventure...was special."

"Why was Weevil involved at all?" she asked.

It was still hard for him to believe she didn't know. He'd been so sure Wallace would have mentioned something about it. "It was his cousin, Diego, who got a head injury playing for Neptune. That's why he and Wallace came to see me in the first place." 

He scratched his head. "Funny thing was, I was pretty sure I'd met Diego once or twice when Lety was still working for us. He was only a little kid then. It seemed...too bad...that he'd had to get hurt playing football just to try to get a scholarship to pay for college."

"So was...Diego...okay?" By now, Veronica was completely caught up in his tale. "Did he get his football scholarship?"

"He did finally recover and he's doing great now. But no more football. They wouldn't let him play after such a severe injury."

"So...he didn't get to go to college?"

Logan's face closed down suddenly, as he just then realized where this conversation was heading.

"Uh, he was a good student and he managed to get another kind of scholarship," he said offhandedly.

But it was too late and she knew him too well.

"A new one, perhaps, endowed by an anonymous donor?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Logan looked embarrassed, then gave a little laugh. "Nothing gets by you, does it?" he sighed. "It's called the Learning is an Adventure scholarship, and it's based on both merit and need. Diego was the first recipient, but it's given every year now."

He grinned suddenly. "You should have seen Lety Navarro's face when she heard that Diego was going to college." He looked at Veronica and shrugged, "I, uh, might have been in the back of the room when they announced the scholarship winner."

Veronica was silent for a moment. "And it was after that that you and Weevil became friends?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't just...that. We never actually talked about that. So...I don't know, we just...hit it off." He shrugged.

"You and Weevil...hit it off? So, what? Now you're having 'fun, fun, fun'?" Veronica couldn't help grinning.

A sheepish smile spread across Logan's face as he remembered a certain not-so-pleasant interaction with Weevil Navarro. "Am I ever gonna live that down?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Couldn't resist," Veronica said, laughing. "So what's Weevil doing now?"

"He owns an auto repair shop. Think I mentioned he got married last year to an elementary school teacher." He glanced at her to catch her reaction.

Veronica's mouth dropped. "And do they have any...?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice low, "just a few months old. A...girl, Lucinda."

Logan rose suddenly. "Let's keep going," he said. "Do you have a favorite place in the garden?"

"Lots of them, actually, but I guess my very favorite would be the footbridge. But it's kind of a long walk," she warned.

"And you think that you can walk further than I can?" he asked, incredulous. "Let's just see who runs out of steam first."

xxxxxxxx

They'd been running the facial recognition software for hours and getting nowhere.

"I told you it might take a while, Keith," Leo reminded him. "Even though we were able to set some parameters, there are still thousands of faces in the database for the program to sort through. And then...maybe... your guy isn't even in the database."

Keith nodded. He'd known from the start it was a long shot, but Logan had seemed so sure that the guy was trouble, and even worse, trouble for Veronica, so he had to try. Couldn't just leave it.

"So, why don't you tell me where you got this picture?" Leo said. "A little story to help pass the time wouldn't hurt." 

The smile never left Leo's pleasant face, but Keith could see that eventually Leo was going to want that question answered.

"I promise you, Leo, if we find a name, I'll tell you everything I know."

"Fair enough," Leo agreed.

While a couple of detectives had shown their faces earlier, Leo and Keith had mostly had the squad room to themselves. It was a Sunday, after all, and while policing was a 24/7 job, if they weren't in the middle of an active investigation, the detectives usually had their weekends off.

The men had gotten as comfortable as possible in a couple of office chairs and were on their third cup of coffee when a new head poked around the doorway.

"Hey, Leo, what the hell you doin' here on Sunday?" The newcomer looked curiously at Keith.

"Manny!" Keith thought Leo sounded surprised. "I thought you were working Gangs and Drugs these days. What're you doing here?"

Manny pointed toward the floor above. "Just wrapping up a case with the task force and finishing a mountain of paperwork." He looked curious. "You guys just sittin' around? There are places with better decor, ya know."

Leo laughed. "Hey, you had much luck with the facial recognition software?" he asked his colleague.

Manny came further into the room. "Nah! Don't use it much. I got my 'facial recognition software' right here." He pointed to his head. 

By this time, Manny had made it all the way to the desk they were sitting at and Leo knew he'd have to make an introduction.

"Manny," he said, "meet an old friend of mine, Keith Mars, from Neptune. Keith, this is Manny Rivera, used to work undercover, but they promoted him to Gangs and Drugs," Leo finished his introductions with a grin.

"Yeah, very funny," Manny said. "So, who you tryna find?"

Leo picked up Keith's phone and pressed a few buttons.

"Here ya go, Manny," Leo said, smiling, showing him the picture. "Is this guy in your personal collection?"

Manny grabbed the phone, grinning, but his grin slowly faded. "Where'd you get this picture?" he asked. Leo nodded toward Keith, who answered. "It was taken in San Francisco."

Manny eyed them both. "Yeah," he said, "That'd be about right. Thing is," he continued, "you're never gonna find this guy in any software program cuz he's never been arrested. But I can tell ya who he is."

Leo and Keith both sat up straighter, unable to believe that after looking for hours, one chance meeting was going to get them their answer.

"Name's Vicente Salazar," Manny continued. "And I can tell ya right now whoever took this picture better not let Salazar know he's got it. These guys don't like their pictures makin' the circuit."

"These guys?" Keith asked.

Manny nodded.

"What you got here is a picture of a high-level member of the Gutierrez drug cartel. They look more like members of a board of directors than members of a gang, but they like to keep a low profile, and they definitely don't like having their pictures taken."

He continued. "This guy is near the top of the pyramid. And he's a smart guy. They don't get to be around as long as him if they're stupid."

"Why does the name Gutierrez ring a bell?" Keith asked.

"You're from Neptune?" Manny asked. When Keith nodded, he continued. "The Gutierrez family has a couple of punk cousins livin' in Neptune. Couple a real assholes, but they have power as long as their daddies are alive. Theoretically, they're higher up the food chain than this guy, and he mostly operates in NorCal, but I'd say he's one of the real powers behind the throne."

He eyed Keith curiously. "Mind if I send myself a copy of this? Update our files?"

"Yeah, sure," Keith said. "Help yourself."

"Whatever it is you're doin'," he said to Keith just before he left them, "watch yourself."

Leo eyed Keith. "I think I need a beer," he said after Manny left the room. "And I think maybe you got a story you want to tell me."

xxxxxxxx

They'd wound their way through a lot of the garden by the time Logan and Veronica made it to Veronica's favorite spot. The wooden footbridge shaped like a perfect half-circle was empty as they approached.

"I remember the first time I saw it," she said. "I couldn't imagine how anyone could get across it."

"And so you turned and walked away and looked for an easier path," he teased.

Logan had said it with a smile in his eyes, but she still gave him one of her trademark stubborn looks and he laughed in response.

"What I did," she said, looking as determined as she'd probably been on the first day she encountered the bridge, "was to figure out how to angle and balance my body so that I could cross it."

"Oh, you mean like this?" he said, running lightly up the slats on the bridge, until he reached the middle, where he stopped to wave at her. "Coming?" he asked.

Veronica muttered in frustration as her practiced steps followed his longer legs to the highest point on the bridge.

"How are you always so graceful?" she asked.

"Ballet lessons," he answered immediately, smirking. "I never really looked good in that tutu, but Mom insisted."

They'd made their way across the rest of the bridge and back onto the pathway before Veronica decided to voice her thought.

"You know, your mom would be so proud of you, Logan," she said softly.

"Yeah?" He looked at her. "I'd sure like to think so." 

"She would. I know she would," Veronica assured him, smiling up at him.

They were both silent for a few minutes as they continued through the garden.

"So...Wallace? And Mac?" Veronica had been trying to make sense of how it was that everyone who'd meant anything to her had somehow become bosom buddies with Logan.

"Wallace is a great guy," he said, nodding his head at Veronica, "but you already knew that. Have you met his girlfriend, Emily?"

Veronica shook her head. "Not yet. They're supposed to be coming for a visit as soon as school is out. They're...pretty serious, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Logan said. "I think you can start looking for a dress to wear to the wedding."

Veronica smiled happily, thinking about Wallace's impending visit. "And...Mac?" she asked again. This was the friendship she'd found the most surprising.

"Mac." Logan stopped short and shook his head. "Mac came by to see me one day a long time ago at...just the right time. Before then, well, I wasn't really...approachable."

Veronica looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she began to feel a weight press down on her. They were getting dangerously close to topics that she wasn't ready to talk about. Would maybe never be ready to talk about.

But Logan seemed to sense her discomfort, and veered off in a different direction.

"Mac stops by whenever she's in town, and we usually get a meal. I...try to let Dick know when she might be coming so he can join us." He grinned at Veronica. "Dick has a little...uh...thing for Mac."

"What! You haven't encouraged this, I hope!" She was appalled.

"I neither encourage nor discourage. Not my business." 

"But...Dick?"

"Hey, I was just about to offer you Dick! It sounds like you think I stole all your good friends, so I thought I should offer you someone in return, but all I have available is Dick," Logan teased.

Veronica shivered, but her eyes were mirthful. "I definitely do not want Dick."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Logan asked, grinning and waggling his eyebrows.

Veronica groaned. "What are you, 12 years old, Echolls? Still with the 'dick' jokes?"

For just an instant, Logan looked wistful, but then he smirked, "Me? You should see Dick's collection."

Veronica was sure she couldn't have heard right. "Dick has a collection of...dick jokes?" she asked, just in case that's what he'd really meant. But the expression on her face said that even Dick Casablancas couldn't be that idiotic.

"On his computer. He's afraid he'll forget them, so he keeps track of them in a file he's labeled Dick's dicks." 

Logan waited for that to sink in.

Suddenly Veronica was giggling, Logan soon joined her, and then they were both laughing uncontrollably. Logan spotted a nearby bench and they both headed for it, sinking down and trying to catch their collective breaths.

They were still sprawled across the bench recovering from their laughter when Veronica felt the first pangs of hunger.

"So, there's a tea shop right around the corner," she said, eyeing him speculatively.

"A tea shop," he said, noncommittally. "Do you think they'd have any food?"

"They usually have these delicious little cakes," Veronica's said excitedly. Her eyes had closed, and she was practically drooling. When she opened them, she noted the grin on Logan's face.

"Walking all this way makes me hungry," she defended herself, and his grin only widened.

"Come on," he said obligingly. "I wouldn't want you fainting away."

They were lucky enough to have arrived at the shop just as a crowd was clearing out, and were immediately seated at a small table.

"A pot of tea for two," Veronica ordered enthusiastically when the waitress appeared, "and a plate of those iced cakes."

It was cozy in the shop, Veronica thought, looking across at Logan's smiling face. She felt comfortable. She was relaxed. She was enjoying herself. She was...happy.

She avoided pursuing that line of thought.

Logan watched as a dozen different expressions flitted across her face, and wondered what was going on inside her head. 

"So, how did you end up as a prosecutor?" he asked, as they sipped their tea a few minutes later. "Not that I'm surprised. It seems like a perfect fit for the Veronica I...used to know."

Veronica studied Logan's face. 

"How did I end up as a prosecutor? You know, it's...funny you should ask that. My boss...who's a great guy, by the way...asked me that same question a while back. He seems to think I have a...talent for it. That it comes naturally."

Logan's brows shot up and he smirked.

"Okay," Veronica said when she noticed the expression on Logan's face. "So maybe I do enjoy the cross-examination part just a little."

His look became smug and he waggled his brows.

"All right, all right!" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "A lot. I enjoy it a lot. But, hell, if everyone didn't lie, or at least try to hide things, then I wouldn't have to show the world what a bunch of losers they all are."

She grinned at him. 

"But that's getting off the track," she continued. "What I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted..."

"Hey," he protested. "I didn't say a word!"

"Before I was rudely interrupted by the smirk on your face," she continued, smiling, "is that my boss asked me that same question when I accepted the job. I'd...done pretty well in law school and he wanted to know why I wasn't going into corporate law at one of the big firms."

She looked at Logan again and her face was serious now. "And do you know what I wanted to say to him?" she asked, raising her brows inquisitively at him.

Logan shook his head.

"Logan Echolls. That's what I wanted to say. Logan Echolls is why I can take the job I really want..."

"Veronica." He did interrupt her then. "I think we've already been over this."

"Yeah," she said. "I know. But you asked the question and that's the real answer."

"But I'm guessing it's not the answer you gave your boss," he said.

"Nope. I told him it was either a prosecutor or a defense attorney, and a couple of months later, he told me he was glad I'd come down on the side of law and order."

Logan chuckled when he heard that. "If he only knew," he said, and they both smiled, remembering all the times that Veronica had played fast and loose with a law or two.

Logan grabbed another cake before Veronica could eat them all.

"And...Garcia?" he asked, trying his best to make it a casual question. "How does he fit in?"

But her face shut down immediately, and he knew she wasn't going to discuss...her fiancé...with him. 

"Okay," he tried again. "How about this? How long have you been engaged?"

He could see her thinking, deciding if she should answer that question.

"Only a few weeks," she said finally.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about him with...me, but I just gotta say I was surprised that you'd ever want to be a political wife."

An expression of distaste crossed her face. "I didn't know he was going to run for office," she said.

"You didn't know!" Logan could hardly believe it. "He didn't tell you..."

"I think we need to change the subject," Veronica said, her earlier smiles gone.

Logan thought about Chardo Navarro, and about the unknown man that Keith Mars was even now trying to identify, and he wondered exactly how long a discussion about Matthew Garcia could be avoided. But he knew that he'd need to have a lot more facts before he'd be able to persuade Veronica to listen to anything he had to say about the man.

"Okay," he finally said. "What would you like to talk about instead?"

"Well, it occurs to me that you still haven't told me about...the divorce. About...what went wrong."

"You're right," Logan said, sighing. "The short version is that Cliff doesn't know why, but the agreement was never recorded."

"And what's the long version? What brought it all to light?"

Logan was a little embarrassed, but couldn't see his away around telling Veronica the truth. He knew she'd just worm it out of him anyway.

"Do you remember that...day at the mall when we ran into Madison Sinclair?" he asked.

Veronica nodded, but it was clear from her expression that she wondered how Madison could possibly fit into the story.

"Yeah, well apparently Madison figured out that we were...married. Maybe she...saw our rings, I don't know." He shrugged.

Veronica nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Dick had a party a couple of weeks ago and I guess he invited Madison. Anyway, when I got there with...my date, Madison was there. This next part, well I'm not really sure what happened, who said what to whom, but the next thing I know, a couple of days later my girl..uh, date...is at my door, screaming at me because I never told her I was married."

"So," Veronica said diffidently, "your girlfriend found out about the marriage somehow."

She tried to keep her face expressionless, but Logan was almost sure that she hadn't been happy to hear about a girlfriend. And the last thing he wanted were any more misunderstandings.

"Ex-girlfriend," he corrected. "And it was never a serious relationship."

He looked closely at Veronica then, trying to determine if that disclosure was having any effect, but she just shrugged.

"She'd had her dad look into the county records, something we could have done at any time ourselves, I guess, but I just assumed..."

"Me, too," she agreed.

"So there was a record of the marriage, but not the divorce. When she told me, at first I didn't believe her, but the next day I went to see Cliff. He looked in his files, went online, even went directly to the county records office, and that's when he realized something had gone wrong."

Logan explained to Veronica about Cliff's secretary, about the flood, about Cliff's disregarded 'tickler file'.

When he got to end of his tale, he sighed. "Cliff says we should report him to the bar for neglecting to fulfill his legal duty. What do you think?"

Veronica looked at him oddly. "Are you kidding?" she asked.

Logan gave a little half-smile. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I am. But I could...that is, do you want me to...find somebody else to do the...agreement this go round?"

"Oh," she said, frowning. "I don't know. Do you want to?"

"No, I don't think it's necessary. I wouldn't want to have to...explain...everything to a stranger. And I'm pretty sure it will be at the top of Cliff's priority list."

Logan paused. "I think you should know that it's not going to be quite as simple this time around, though. Community property state," he explained.

"Oh, well," Veronica said, shrugging her narrow shoulders gracefully. "There's...no hurry. Um, I'm sure it will all get worked out eventually."

Logan shook his head, disbelieving. That's all she has to say? Where are the recriminations, the denunciations, the reprimands?

"What's the matter?" she asked, frowning, catching his look.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all. I guess I just thought you'd be, I don't know, angrier."

"With you?" she wanted to know. "It's not your fault." She paused. "Is it?"

Logan threw his hands out and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess..."

"What?" Veronica stopped in the act of pouring out the last of the tea. "Tell me."

"Well..." The smart thing, he thought, would be to leave well enough alone, but then he'd never been very smart when it came to Veronica Mars.

"There have been times in the past," Logan said finally, "when you might have blamed me for something that...wasn't my fault."

Oh, god, he thought, would he never learn to keep his mouth shut? And they'd had such a great afternoon. 

But for once, Veronica Mars surprised him.

"I know," she admitted with a wry smile. "I'm trying not to do that anymore."

xxxxxxxx

They'd settled into the small living room in Leo's bungalow with an extra-large pepperoni pizza and a couple of beers.

"This was a great idea, Leo," Keith said. "I was starving."

Leo eyed him over the top of his bottle. "Hell, you bought the pizza."

"Well, it was the least I could do," Keith began, when Leo cut him off.

"Look, Keith, cut the crap. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Keith sighed. "I can only tell you what I know myself, and that's almost nothing."

"Who took that picture?"

Keith hesitated for just a heartbeat. "Logan Echolls," he said.

If Keith had answered "The Pope," Leo didn't think he could have been more surprised.

"Logan Echolls. That's a name I haven't heard for a while." He eyed Keith thoughtfully. "He and...Veronica...are still...?" He left the question unfinished.

Keith shrugged. "Not...exactly. They...had been close...a while back." Keith shook his head in frustration, "Veronica lives in San Francisco, but I have no idea what Logan is doing there."

"So they aren't...together...now?" Leo asked.

"No," Keith said, "that's the one thing I'm sure of. Veronica is actually engaged to another man."

Leo nodded. "So what now?" he asked.

Keith swallowed the last bite of pizza and took the last swig of his beer.

"Now I think I call Logan and ask him exactly what you asked me. What the hell is going on and what does it have to do with my daughter?"

xxxxxxxx

By the time they'd finished their tea and cakes, Logan could tell by the expression on her face that Veronica was about to put an end to their outing. 

"Look, Veronica, before you go, I just want apologize again for the other night. I never planned to drop that on you like that. It was childish of me. And selfish."

Veronica smiled. "I think I'll give you a pass based on extreme provocation."

By then, they were walking down a path that the signs said led to the exit, and Logan wanted to make sure she understood. But her next words led him to believe that maybe she understood him all too well.

"But you did somehow get yourself invited to the Farnsworths' dinner. Did you know I'd be there?" she wanted to know.

Logan knew he'd have to come clean. "I knew...Garcia would be there. If I'd known you were coming before I got there...Veronica, I never would have blindsided you like that." He could only hope she believed him.

"But you did know Matthew would be there...and you knew about us. About our engagement, I mean." 

She'd made it a statement rather than a question, but he still nodded reluctantly.

"But...why, Logan? What did you hope to gain?"

Logan shrugged, feeling stupider than he had in a long time. He thought he'd achieved some maturity over the years, but he knew his near-stalking of Matthew Garcia made him look ridiculous. 

He tried to be as honest as he could.

"I guess I wanted to meet the man who had...taken my place. The man who was going to be able to claim you as his wife."

Veronica's mouth dropped open in surprise, but then she gave him a little smile.

"Nobody could ever take your place, Logan, you know that."

They stood there then, just outside the exit to the Japanese Tea Garden, staring at each other, neither knowing exactly what to do next. At last, Veronica offered Logan her hand, and he took it. They shook solemnly, and Logan couldn't help thinking about the last time they'd shaken hands like this, when she'd finally accepted his marriage proposal.

Veronica pulled her hand back and gave him another smile. "So you'll be in touch," she said.

He nodded and they turned away in opposite directions. He'd already taken a few steps but suddenly there was an insistent drumbeat in Logan's head that he found impossible to ignore. 'Screw the handshake', it said. He turned back abruptly, a half dozen long strides and he was touching her shoulder.

"Veronica," he said, grasping her arm and turning her around, wrapping her in his embrace. The sensation of having her in his arms again nearly overwhelmed him. When she didn't push him away, he pulled her closer still, and she twined her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

Her hair still smelled of coconut, and everything about her was still so essentially Veronica that he nearly wept with relief. He hadn't been quite sure, but now he knew. In all the important ways, she was still the same, still his Veronica.

He could feel her pulling away then, and he heard her sigh, as if she were doing so reluctantly, as if she would stay there with him forever, just as he would. 

"Have to go," she murmured suddenly, without looking at him, and ran off into the crowd toward the bus stop. He stood there watching her back until she disappeared from view.

xxxxxxxx

Logan was nearly back to the parking lot when he felt his phone vibrate, as it had several times in the last hour, but this time he pulled it out to answer. Keith Mars, his Caller ID said.

"Keith.." he began.

"Logan," Keith interrupted him. "I've been trying to get you for an hour!" He sounded exasperated.

"I'm sorry..." It was all he got out before Keith interrupted him again.

"What the hell is going on, Logan? I need to know what my daughter has gotten herself mixed up in."

"Veronica hasn't done anything wrong, Keith," he hastened to explain. "Did you find out who the guy is?"

"Yes," Keith said. "And it didn't make me happy."

Damn! In his gut, Logan had known something was wrong as soon as he'd spotted Chardo Navarro.

"I don't think we should talk about this over the phone," he said. "Are you at home?"

"No, I'm in San Diego. At Leo's."

"Leo's? Deputy Leo?" 

"That's Detective Leo, now, Logan. SDPD."

"Okay. San Diego is even easier. Text me his address. I'm going to take the first shuttle I can get a seat on. I'll let you know once I've booked a ticket."

"Logan..."

"Hanging up now, Keith. See you soon."

Logan looked at his watch. 5:30. He couldn't believe he'd spent three and a half hours in the garden with Veronica. It hadn't felt like half that long.

It was Sunday night and he knew the shuttle between San Francisco and San Diego would be busy, but Logan crossed his fingers. He counted himself lucky to get the last available seat on the 7 o'clock flight and decided that he didn't have time for even a brief stop at his hotel.

Logan called the hotel and told them he'd be gone for a day or two, but retained his room, then drove to the airport and left his rental car in long-term parking. He got through security but had to hustle to make it to the gate in time. 

It was only when he was finally in his seat, and on his way to San Diego, that he allowed himself free rein to worry about just what kind of mess Veronica might really be in.


	12. Part II - Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that as usual, all italics were wiped out when the chapter posted. Anything written in the first person are the character's thoughts and were originally italicized.

Part II - Chapter 7

 

She sat there in the gathering dusk, not realizing that the sun had set. The twilight glow still lingered outside, but it was getting dark inside her flat. She knew that turning on the lights would probably be a good idea, but Veronica couldn't seem to move.

She'd barely made it back to her apartment. It was only by force of habit that she'd managed to get onto the right bus, and off again at the stop near her building. She'd run up the stairs and unlocked her door, but once inside Veronica had simply curled up in the corner of her couch. She'd been there ever since.

And she'd been asking herself the same question over and over. How could this have happened? How could she have let it happen? 

Veronica had been so happy that morning as she anticipated spending the afternoon with Logan. In all the years since she'd left Neptune, thoughts of him had lingered somewhere in the recesses of her mind. He was too important, had been too intimately woven into the fabric of her being to ever leave behind completely. But at the same time it had been too painful to talk about him, and eventually, without her saying a word, none of them ever mentioned Logan's name or even alluded to his existence.

Not her dad, who still lived in Neptune and probably knew everything about him. Not Wallace, who apparently was now his poker buddy and sometime business partner. Not Mac, who'd become his friend and confidante. 

She'd only wanted to protect herself, but it had backfired, because she hadn't been prepared. She'd become complacent, convinced that not talking about him meant that she was no longer susceptible. That she could relegate Logan Echolls to that category of acquaintances known as "old friends." She'd thought she could step close to the fire and not get burned. And she'd almost gotten away with it.

They'd had such a wonderful time, she and Logan. Talking and laughing. Teasing. She'd been nervous as she waited for him, but then he'd arrived and...everything had felt so natural. Like they'd never been apart at all. And she'd thought to herself,'Why did I stay away from him for so long? He's my oldest friend. What was I so afraid of?'

They'd sat there having tea and cakes and she'd been so sure that the legal mess would get straightened out, and then she could get back to her life, her new life. But this time, she wouldn't have to give him up. This time she could keep his friendship. She'd been excited. And happy.

When they'd parted, she'd put out her hand a little tentatively. She'd meant it as a peace offering, had intended for the gesture to emphasize the very ordinariness of their relationship. After her reaction to his touch on Friday, she'd known it was important to keep physical contact to a minimum. But it had been fine. Just a little jolt of awareness, and as she turned away, she'd already half-persuaded herself that it was only because she hadn't seen him in so long.

And then, oh, god, he'd turned back, and his legs were so long, it must have taken him only a couple of strides to reach her, and he'd grabbed her and pulled her around and into his arms. 

In a split second, she'd understood that everything she'd been telling herself all afternoon had been a lie.

Veronica sat there in the dark, remembering the feel of his body against hers. She closed her eyes and recalled his scent, that combination of grooming and nature that was so essentially Logan. She remembered how she'd wanted to melt into him. How she'd had to stop herself from reaching up to touch his face, his hair. How she hadn't been able to resist leaning into him, clutching at his waist. 

Veronica had no idea how long they'd stood there near the exit of the Japanese Tea Garden and just held onto each other. Her heart had been racing, her body had been trembling, and she'd wanted to stay there in his arms forever.

Until she'd finally managed to pull herself together and just bolted. Run away like a scared little girl.

Veronica had been sitting for hours now, and as much as she wanted to come to some other conclusion - really, to any other conclusion - she knew in her heart that she wasn't going to be able to keep him after all. 

xxxxxxxx

Logan spent most of his ninety-minute plane ride trying to figure out how his life had so quickly spun completely out of control.

First had come the revelation that he and Veronica were still married. He'd barely slept the night that Sabrina Colbert had flung that at him, wondering if it could be true. Hoping that it was true because maybe that would have been a sign from the universe that he should do what he'd once sworn he never would. Go after Veronica.

But he'd barely had time to rejoice over Cliff's confirmation that they were, in fact, still married before he'd been plunged back into the abyss by the news that Veronica had a fiancé. 

Since then, nothing had happened in a way he could have predicted.

The first surprise had been the man Veronica was supposed to marry. He knew there'd been very little chance that he'd actually like Veronica's intended. Not only was he slated to become Logan's replacement, he was also the insurmountable obstacle standing in the way of his happiness. 

But he had expected to respect him. Garcia's biography had read like something right out of Dickens, and who wouldn't respect a modern-day David Copperfield? And of course, as the final affirmation of Garcia's worth, Veronica had agreed to marry him. That alone suggested he must be laudable, admirable, a fucking prince among men.

But when they'd finally met, Logan had found that Matthew Garcia was instead an arrogant prick who appeared to take for granted the most remarkable woman that Logan had ever known. So while he'd prepared himself to be selfless, it had been a relief to be able to despise the bastard. 

This afternoon with Veronica, he'd delayed broaching the fuck-up with the divorce until she'd brought it up herself because he'd been so certain that she'd be angry about it, and he really hadn't wanted to ruin the mood. He was even prepared for the slight chance that she might somehow blame him. But she wasn't angry. And she hadn't blamed him. Surprise number two.

And then he'd thought that at the very least, she might berate him for being a jackass, for the way he'd lost control and blurted out information that should have been conveyed in private. But she'd been...surprisingly understanding about his lack of restraint. 

Logan shook his head and sighed. And then...to find out about that crazy...misunderstanding. He hadn't wanted to read too much into it, but why the hell would she ever think he could become seriously involved with another woman only a few months after she left? 

And exactly what the fuck had Dick said to her anyway? And more than that, why the hell hadn't Dick even told him that he'd seen Veronica? If he'd told Logan, if he'd repeated his conversation with Veronica, just maybe the crazy miscommunication could have been avoided. Maybe Veronica wouldn't have thought he'd moved on. Maybe she wouldn't have started seeing Garcia. Maybe she'd never have agreed to marry him.

And maybe it would have made no fucking difference at all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, or his ego, and maybe Veronica would have started dating Garcia no matter what. Too goddamn many 'maybes'.

But, dammit, there was one thing he had no doubts about. One thing about which there were no 'maybes'. Veronica still...reacted to him. 

He'd thought he'd seen it when her eyes had locked onto him at the dinner party on Thursday. He'd felt that same old familiar pull, and he would have sworn that just at first, when she'd been almost overwhelmed with shock, before she'd been able to hide it, she had, too.

And then on Friday, when Evie had been all over him, he knew Veronica had been jealous. He'd dealt with enough jealous women in his life and he couldn't have mistaken the look, even though she'd tried to mask it. Then she'd caressed his hand briefly before she got into the cab, and maybe he was the only one who felt the shock of touching her after all that time. But he didn't think so.

But, hell, even if all that had been his imagination, the connection, the jealousy, the physical reaction, today he'd been sure. Today, in the garden, that hadn't been his imagination. This afternoon, when he couldn't contain himself any longer, when he'd simply had to know if she would feel the same in his arms as she always had, today he hadn't been mistaken. 

His reaction to her nearness had been immediate, and physical, and nearly overwhelming, and in many ways, it was good that she'd run off. Because when he'd felt Veronica clutch at him and tremble in his arms, he'd been so close to just lowering his head and brushing his lips across hers, just to see if they were as impossibly soft as he remembered. But that would have been a disaster. Because if he'd kissed her, if he'd felt her kissing him back, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to let go of her at all.

Logan sighed. He hadn't drunk to excess in a long time, but if he hadn't had to drive to Dep..Detective Leo's house, he'd have been sorely tempted to discover just how many gin and tonics he could consume before the plane landed. He could have booked into one of those hotels near the airport to sleep it off. 

As it was, he needed to remain clear-headed if he was going to make sure they found a way to keep Veronica safe.

xxxxxxxx

"Ah, is that pizza I see?" Logan had spotted the telltale cardboard boxes on Leo's coffee table.

"Help yourself, man. You want me to warm it up for you?" Leo was a little uncomfortable playing host to a man he hadn't seen since they'd conspired to commit a felony a decade earlier.

"No, this is good. Sorry. I haven't had much to eat today except cake." He huffed a laugh. "And they only serve peanuts on the shuttles. After I asked for a fourth bag, the flight attendant looked like she thought I might try to hijack the snack trolley."

"Logan..." Impatience was practically oozing out of Keith's pores.

"Sorry, Keith. I can talk and eat at the same time, no problem," Logan said, chewing his pizza and at the same time pulling out his phone. "Here's the original picture I took yesterday."

He showed the other two the picture of Chardo Navarro and the older guy.

"Does that building in the background look familiar to you?" he asked Keith.

Keith shook his head. "Should it?"

Logan shrugged. "Matthew Garcia's condo is on the top floor."

Keith's eyes narrowed. "And how the hell would you know that, Logan? Have you been...stalking my daughter?"

Leo's confusion was evident. "Who's Matthew Garcia?" He looked at the other two, who seemed to be having a staring contest. 

Logan shook his head at Keith and sighed. "I'm going to have to bring Leo here up to speed if we're gonna figure this out. And, Keith, there are a couple of things that you're not aware of, either."

Logan sat there for a moment wondering how to begin. He shrugged finally, opting for short and simple.

"Leo...you need to know that about six years ago, Veronica and I, well, we got married."

He took a swig of his beer and waited for Leo's reaction. 

But Leo merely nodded. "And...?" he said. "Something obviously happened because she's in San Francisco and you're still living in Neptune."

"Yeah," Logan said with a smirk. "I can see why they made you a detective."

"Logan..." Keith shook his head.

"Sorry." He shook his own head as if to clear it. "We were divorced just a couple of months after we married, Detective. Or at least, that's what we'd always assumed."

"What the hell does that mean?" Keith demanded, right on cue.

Logan swung his head toward Keith. "Apparently, the divorce agreement that Veronica and I both signed never made it to the court. Never was recorded. You can ask Cliff about it if you want, Keith. He's the one who confirmed it for me. I'll call him and tell him it's okay to talk to you about it."

Logan paused, giving Keith a little time to digest what he'd just been told.

"But...how did it all come to light?" Keith couldn't help asking.

Logan gave a rueful little laugh. "Does it really matter?" He answered Keith's question with one of his own, and Keith shook his head.

"So you and Veronica...? Leo interjected.

Logan pressed his lips together and nodded his head. "Yup. Still married."

"So you went to San Francisco to...what...tell Veronica?" Keith was finally able to make some sense of it. "And you...met Garcia?"

Logan nodded and Leo asked again, "Who's Garcia?" 

Logan smirked. "Veronica's...fiancé. For now," he added, not even trying to keep the disdain from his voice.

"I met his daughter, Evie, too," Logan continued. "She invited me to lunch on Saturday, and while I was waiting for her in front of Garcia's building, I saw her come out with...these two. I recognized the young guy, but I couldn't place him. Mac recognized him as a PCHer right away, but she didn't remember his name. So I sent his picture - just the younger guy - to Weevil,"

"Mac?" Keith asked, concerned. "You got Mac involved in this?"

"Well the thing is, Keith," Logan said defensively, "when I asked for her help I didn't know there was a 'this' to be involved in. I was just...curious." 

"Curious about?"

"About who the guy was. Where I might know him from."

"So who is he?" Leo asked.

"Chardo Navarro, black sheep cousin of the Navarro familia." Logan waited for Keith's reaction.

"Chardo!" Keith exclaimed. "I never would have recognized him."

"Yeah, well I guess I should have remembered the asshole who stole from my family so he could impress the girl he was banging, who also happened to be my girlfriend of the moment, and then let his grandmother take the rap," Logan said, shaking his head. "But he hasn't really aged all that well. I asked Weevil to find out what Lety knew about Chardo, but all she'd say was that he'd gotten mixed up with some drug dealers."

Logan looked at Keith. "That's when I decided to send you the picture of the old guy. So who the hell is he, Keith?" He'd been stewing over the old guy's identity all the way to San Diego. 

Keith and Leo glanced at each other, but it was Leo who finally answered Logan's question. 

"One of our detectives in the Gangs and Drugs Unit - a guy I respect and trust - identified him as Vicente Salazar...a high-ranking and powerful member of the Gutierrez drug cartel."

"Well, fuck me!" Logan said. That was truly a worst-case scenario.

"Logan, just what does this all have to do with Veronica?" This was the part the Keith hadn't understood, although if that was Garcia's building...

"Well," he said, "if you consider that the old guy - Salazar? - kissed Evie Garcia on the cheek as they were coming out of the building together, and that when I asked her who he was, she said he was her father's padrino, I'd say that might connect up with Veronica."

Logan ran his hands through his hair, becoming more and more agitated.

"Padrino?" Leo asked.

"Garcia refers to him as 'padrino'. Evie said it means 'mentor' or 'sponsor'. But you know, I was thinking it might really be more like...'godfather'," he said derisively. "And it looks like I was right."

Keith was silent for a moment.

"I don't understand," he said. "I've only met the guy a couple of times, but Veronica described Garcia as someone who overcame a deprived childhood..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah," Logan said. "That's the story I got when I Googled him, and his daughter said the same thing. Good student, church scholarships, yada, yada, yada."

 

Logan clenched his fists in an effort to control his turmoil.

"But what if it's all bullshit, Keith? What if it was the Gutierrez family that paid for his education, by way of his padrino, Señor Salazar? And now Garcia is running for Attorney General? Maybe his padrino is still 'sponsoring' him."

"Wait!" Leo said. "The guy's running for office?" He looked at Keith. "Logan's right. The official story could all be crap, and if this guy ever became AG, well, that could affect law enforcement all over the state."

"I know you're right, Leo, but right now I'm a lot more worried about Veronica," Keith said. "Suppose Garcia does turn out to be some cartel...asset. It would be dangerous for her if they thought she'd found out. If this...if Logan's information about Salazar's connection to Garcia turns out to be accurate, I just want her out of that situation."

Logan turned to Keith, his temper starting to rise. "What? You think I made that up? That it's all some kind of ruse to get Veronica back?"

"Logan..." Keith ran his hand across the top of his head in frustration. "No, of course I don't think that."

He sighed and turned to Leo. "I think we need to look into Garcia's background thoroughly. Supposedly, he'd lived with his grandmother, although it's doubtful she'd still be alive. But...those church scholarships. Maybe the parish priest knows something about them, if they actually existed."

Logan could see him thinking furiously about the best way to approach this.

"You know someone at the LAPD you can trust, Leo?" Keith finally asked the younger man. "Because I do have a couple of contacts of my own. Strictly unofficial, of course."

Leo looked thoughtful. "While I'm a little concerned about some guy with a phony background running for office, at this point I'm a lot more concerned about Veronica. I think...if you've got good contacts, people you can trust...that we ought to go the unofficial route. At least for now. As long as whoever you ask can't be traced back to you. That wouldn't help Veronica, either."

Keith considered, then nodded his head. "I agree," he said. "Let's keep this on the DL until we know what we've got."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do while you detectives are out...detecting?!" Logan threw out his arms in frustration.

"Go home, Logan," Keith said. "Get some rest. Take care of your business."

For a moment, the years fell away and Logan looked as mutinous as Keith had ever seen him.

And then he clapped Logan on the shoulder and added, "If we find out what I'm afraid we're going to, you and I will both be taking a trip back to San Francisco to explain it all to Veronica. I wouldn't consider going without you."

"You got that right," Logan said, but his belligerence had fled. He nodded at the other two, picked up his car keys and headed out the door.

xxxxxxx

After Logan left Leo's, Keith considered how best to proceed. He needed some information and it had to be quick and it had to be off the record. He knew only one person who could help him when he had those kinds of restrictions, so he reluctantly made the call.

"Hi, Mac," he said when she answered. "Sorry to be calling so late."

"Keith," Mac said, and he thought she sounded a little wary. "How have you been?"

"Well, I've been better. Logan was just here."

There was a pause, and he could almost hear Mac's thoughts across the line.

"He...he told you?" He heard the disbelief in her voice.

"He had to, Mac, and that's not really the issue here, anyway."

Mac exhaled loudly into the phone. "Maybe you better just tell me why you called," she said.

"Okay," Keith said, "how do you feel about hacking into the records of the Roman Catholic Church? Specifically, the personnel records for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles from about 30 years ago?"

"You know, even Veronica never asked me to do anything quite so...sacrilegious. But I assume you have a good reason for this request?" It was definitely a question.

"If I promise to tell you all about it very soon, do you think we could just skip past my reasons for the moment?" Keith didn't want to tell her anything about their investigation until he had something definitive.

"Very soon? Does this mean you're coming for a visit?" she asked.

"It's a strong possibility," he said. "But right now, Mac, I could really use your help."

"Okay," she said finally. "I'm going to assume this has something to do with Logan or Veronica and that you wouldn't ask if you had a choice. So shoot."

Keith had looked through every article he could find on the Internet about Matthew Garcia, but had found no information about his early life, other than the vague references to his church-sponsored scholarships. He'd almost given up, when he saw a casual mention of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in the heart of East LA. Gotcha, he'd thought.

"Thanks, Mac," he said now. "I need the name of the pastor of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in East LA between about 1980 and 1985. Then, if he's still alive, I need to know where he is now."

"And what if he's...not still alive?" she asked.

"Well, then, we've hit a dead end and I'll have to think of something else. But let's hope for the best."

It was after midnight when Mac called back. "I found your guy, Keith," she said excitedly. "Father Ernesto Alvarez. Right now, he's residing at the St. Ignatius Retirement Home in Santa Barbara."

"Mac, you're a lifesaver. And unfortunately, that may not just be a figure of speech. I have a feeling I'm going to be seeing you soon."

After Keith had hung up, his next call had been to the best con man he knew, or at least the best one he knew who was no longer on the game.

"Hi, Trini...Keith Mars. Sorry if I woke you. Got anything on for tomorrow?"

xxxxxxxx

 

Over the years, Keith Mars had asked Trini Acevedo to do a lot of crazy things, dig into a lot of crazy shit. But never before had he sent him to a priests' retirement home. 

It kinda gave Trini the creeps. He didn't spend time in churches, that was for sure, and he tried to stay as far away from priests as possible. But he'd owed Keith since he was a kid, and besides, he could always use the extra dough. Keith always paid pretty good.

Keith had been a rookie cop and Trini an adolescent when they'd met. Keith had found a way to help him put his talent as a con man to better use in the entertainment industry after Trini's father had been killed by an unhappy mark. Over the years, he'd built up a solid resume of small character parts, and he made a decent living, but sometimes he missed the thrill of the con. He enjoyed keeping his hand in by occasionally working on a "special project" for Keith.

This time, he was a remorseful parishioner who wanted to confess that he'd eavesdropped on a conversation between the priest and another man years before when he'd been an altar boy. (He liked that part. Just the idea of himself as an "altar boy" made him chuckle.). He'd have to pretend to be a little younger than he was, but that was no trouble for Trini. 

The conversation he was supposed to have overheard was about a kid called Mateo Garcia. Now Trini knew a lot of Garcias, hell, it was as common a name as Smith was in the Anglo community, but he'd never heard of a Mateo. The priest didn't have to know that, though.

Trini would be very remorseful - and very convincing. He'd be telling the priest a story, but what he really needed was for the priest to tell him what he needed to know. But that's what a con man did, and Trini had learned from the best. He knew that if this guy had the information Keith needed, Trini'd soon get it out of him. 

Here it was, he thought pulling through the gates of the St.Ignatius Retirement Home in Santa Barbara. He looked around at the beautiful grounds thinking that maybe he'd missed his calling. Trini didn't have a family and he wondered sometimes who'd care for him in his old age. But then he laughed at himself. Him a priest? Not fuckin' likely.

It looked like the old guys didn't get many visitors, because he had no trouble at all when he asked to see "his old parish priest" Fr. Alvarez. He'd been afraid that the priest, who was well into his eighties now according to Keith, would be drooling into his chin, but that wasn't the case. He was sitting outside on a bench, enjoying the one sunny day they'd had that week. There was a walker in front of him, so maybe he was little frail, but he looked alert. Thank fuck, Trini thought.

"Fr. Alvarez? It is Fr. Alvarez, isn't it?" The old guy nodded and Trini sat down in the seat next to him.

"Finally!" Trini looked overjoyed but the old priest was perplexed.

"Do I know you?" he asked Trini.

"It's me, Fr. Alvarez, Tomas Martinez. Don't tell me you've forgotten? I was an altar boy at Our Lady of Guadalupe for four years and I don't think I ever got to Mass on time once in all those years."

Trini smiled at the old priest and, like most people, particularly older people, the priest didn't want to admit that he didn't remember him. Which if he had, Trini figured, it would have been a fucking miracle, since Trini had never met this guy in his life and had no idea where in hell Our Lady of Guadalupe was. He was following Keith's script.

"Of course, my son, of course. How are you these days, Tomas?"

"Oh, well enough," Trini told the priest. "But I had a helluva...uh, excuse me, Father, I had a terrible time finding you."

"I'm sorry to have put you to so much trouble. How can I help you?"

"Well, I...I guess I have a confession to make."

"Confession? Surely you could go to your own priest for that?" His confusion was apparent.

"Oh, no, it's not that kind of confession." Trini's smile was the most ingratiating version that he had to offer. "It's a confession about something that I did years ago, when I was an altar boy."

"I see," said the old priest. "Well, it couldn't have been so very terrible if you were just a muchacho. I'm sure that God has forgiven you."

"It's not God's forgiveness that I'm looking for, Father, it's...yours," he said.

"Mine, Tomas? What could you have done to me?"

"I...invaded your privacy. And you a priest. I eavesdropped on a conversation that you had with an important man. It was in the church. You..you didn't know I was there." Trini hung his head, as though in shame.

"Which important man was that?" the priest said, suddenly wary.

"I don't know his name, but I remember the name of the boy you were talking about. It was Mateo. Mateo Garcia. The important man was telling you that he would pay for the boy's education, but you must say that the church was sponsoring the boy. I think maybe he even spoke about a new roof for the church? That part I don't remember exactly, but the school fees for the boy, that I remember."

For a moment, the old priest said nothing.

"You...heard such a conversation, Tomas?" Trini could see him thinking back, wondering if there had ever been such a conversation inside the church.

"My mother, God rest her soul," here Trini crossed himself, a little 'business' never hurt, he thought, "she'd have been so ashamed if she knew I'd disrespected a priest that way."

"And...why did you listen?" By now, Trini knew that Fr. Alvarez had bought the story completely.

Trini shrugged. "I was a kid, I was jealous of Mateo's good fortune." He shook his head. "Here you were, you and this man were doing God's work, and I failed to show you the respect you deserved."

For a long time, the priest said nothing. Finally he sighed and murmured, half to himself, "It was a parish hall."

"What was, Father?" Trini asked, and this time his confusion was genuine.

"It was a parish hall that Salazar promised, not a new roof. And he delivered." The priest sighed. "And I was never sure that we were doing God's work,Tomas. But the rest of the boys and girls, they needed that hall, so I did as I was asked."

"Well, I'm sure Mateo was grateful, Father." Trini decided to add a little to the script.

"I'm sure that he was. Who wouldn't be grateful for eleven years of schooling that would be sure to bring him great success?" 

Fr. Alvarez had a faraway look in his eyes as he uttered softly, "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?" 

Trini knew he was out of his depth when priests started quoting scripture.

"Do you know whatever happened to Mateo Garcia, Father?"

"No, Tomas...and I don't want to know." 

He looked Trini in the eye then, and his expression was determined. "Now that you have confessed this...indiscretion to me, you must forget all about that conversation. Forget you ever heard it. Forget about Mateo. Promise me, Tomas."

"Of course, Father. I'm just so relieved. I'll forget about everything we talked about," he assured the old priest.

Just as soon as I tell it all to Keith Mars. 

As soon as Keith heard Trini's story - in which even the name 'Salazar' had been mentioned - he knew he couldn't put off telling Veronica. But it was also something he needed to explain in person. He decided to call her and let her know he'd be up to see her the next day.

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Logan had barely gotten out of bed that Monday morning before he was grabbing for his phone to call Keith. But all Keith would tell him was that he had someone working on it, on finding out the real story on Matthew Garcia.

Fuck! How the hell was he supposed to be able to concentrate on anything today with all the questions that were still swirling around in his head. The most important of which was how they were going to keep Veronica safe. Over the years, Logan had learned to cope with stress in healthy ways, but he hadn't had to deal with worrying about Veronica in a long time, and he knew that he needed something to occupy him if he was going to keep from going crazy.

He'd been about to step into the shower when a sudden thought had him changing direction, heading instead to the room off the garage where he kept his surfing gear. He had his phone up to his ear before he could think better of it.

"Dick? Hey, grab your board and meet me at the beach...yeah, right now."

Logan drove to the beach and had barely climbed into his wetsuit when Dick pulled up and jumped out of his car, carrying his board under his arm.

"I called you at least a half a dozen times in the past few days and you never called back once. Now you suddenly want to go surfing on a Monday morning. What the hell's going on, Dude?"

Logan laughed. "Hey, I remember a Dick Casablancas who wouldn't have cared what day of the week it was. Who didn't know what day of the week it was."

"Yeah, well, that's your fault. I had to waste a shitload of money getting one of my part-time guys to cover for me. Hardly anyone comes in on Monday. I usually use the time to catch up on the books and shit while I'm watching the shop." Dick was just a little disgruntled.

Logan stopped in his tracks, suddenly sober. "I'm sorry, Bro. I just needed a...distraction today. Look, if you want to go back to the surf shop..."

"Nah," Dick clapped him in the shoulder. "If you need company, I'm your guy."

Logan grinned and they wasted no further time in conversation. Dick and Logan had surfed together thousands of times and there was a rhythm to their play. The surf was a little rough today and they knew better than to lose concentration, so their focus was entirely on the water. If Logan threw himself at the waves with a little more frenzy than usual, Dick didn't seem to notice, or if he did notice, he refrained from comment.

It was good exercise and they both loved it, but after a while, even the most enthusiastic of surfers needed a break. 

"What do you say I buy you lunch?" Logan offered, as they fell onto the sand.

"Okay, " Dick was agreeable, "as long as it's Mexican. And as long as I can get a shower first."

They stopped at Logan's to shower and change, and were off to El Indio, which Dick swore had the best burritos in Neptune. He ate his lunch with a mostly silent Logan for company, while he pretty much carried on a conversation with himself. They were halfway through their third beer when Dick could stand it no longer.

"So what the fuck is up with you, Logan?" he said. "You ignore my calls for like five days and now you've practically kidnapped me. But you've only said like six words in the last couple hours. What the hell is going on?"

Logan's beer had been halfway to his mouth when Dick's questions began. He took a large gulp and tried to downplay it.

"Why should anything be wrong, Dude?" he said finally.

While someone else might have sensed that Logan didn't want to answer his question and left it alone, Logan knew that was unlikely to happen with Dick. He wasn't always the most perceptive of guys, but once he did latch onto something he didn't let it go. He barreled straight ahead until it was all out in the open.

"Stop with the bullshit," Dick said now. "I haven't seen you this torqued up since the last time you and Ronnie...Wait! Does this have something to do with Ronnie? Have you heard something about her?"

Logan wondered how it was that his most uncomplicated of friends always seemed to get right to the heart of the matter. He shook his head and gave Dick a small smile.

"Why don't you tell me about the last time you saw Veronica, Dick?" he said, steering him in a different direction.

"The last time I...that would be at Hearst. No, wait! I did run into Ronnie last year when you sent me on that trip to San Francisco." Dick nodded his head. "But, oh, shit," he looked at Logan out of the corner of his eyes, "I wasn't actually supposed to tell you about that."

"Why not?" Logan wanted to know.

"Well...Ronnie asked me not to. And besides, I knew you'd just get all moody and shit if I so much as mentioned her name. Like now."

Logan nodded. "But now that I do know, why don't you tell me about it."

He sat back in his chair, cradling his beer, and waited to hear what Dick had to say.

"Uh, okay," Dick nodded, somewhat bewildered, and Logan watched his eyes flicker in his effort to remember.

"She barely said hello, I remember that." He recalled the sting of her near-snub. They'd never been the best of friends, but still...

Logan nodded. "Go on," he said.

"I remember she asked what I was doing in San Francisco, and I told her you sent me because you were busy." 

He looked up at Logan. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Did you mention my business?"

"Uh, yup, I think so. She...asked how you were. I said you were busy with LEA." 

Dick remembered that he'd been indignant on Logan's behalf. "She didn't seem to even know you had a business. Probably thought you went to shit when she left town. So I let her know you'd had LEA for almost four years. That you'd done okay without her."

He thought a minute. "And that was about it. Except for her asking me not to mention to you that I'd seen her."

Logan sighed. That was just about what he'd figured. "I said you were busy with LEA. Had LEA for almost four years."

It was easy to see how she might have misinterpreted Dick. The guy wasn't known for explaining himself.

Logan had been quiet for so long that Dick finally cleared his throat and asked, "You pissed at me or something, Logan?"

Logan smiled and shook his head. "No, Bro," he said. "Not at all."

He looked at his watch. One forty-five and he still hadn't heard from Keith. 

"What do you say we play hooky for the whole day?" Logan said finally. "I'll drag out the video games from the back of the closet and we can have a rematch of...something."

"You haven't wanted to do that shit in years," Dick said, shaking his head. "Look, I know there's something going on with you that you don't want to tell me about, but if you just want me to keep you company today, I can do that. So, yeah, we can spend the afternoon playing video games."

It was almost 4 o'clock, and they were on their fifth rematch when Logan's phone finally rang and he saw that it was Keith.

"Keith," he said, and Dick's eyes narrowed when he heard the name. "What did you find out?"

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Keith knew that Logan had probably been on pins and needles all day and he gave him a lot of credit for not calling every hour. So when he got the confirmation from Trini about Matthew Garcia's connection with the Gutierrez cartel, he thought it only fair to let him know the outcome immediately.

"Logan," he said. "I don't know as I'd call this good news, but I have confirmation that Garcia is in bed with the Gutierrez cartel. Nothing that would hold up in court, but I think...enough to convince my daughter." He sighed. "Veronica has never needed a roadmap to figure out who the bad guys are. So I think we should head up there tomorrow..."

"Already on my computer, Keith. I've booked us on tomorrow's 10:30am flight out of San Diego. Are you still at Leo's?"

"No, I drove back this morning so I could pick up a few things before we head to San Francisco."

"Good," Logan said. "I'll pick you up at 8 if you text me your new address. No point in taking two cars to the airport."

"Done," Keith said, finishing up his text to Logan. "When the hell did you get so organized?"

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet," Logan said.

xxxxxxxxx

As soon as Logan got off the phone, Dick was all over him.

"That was Keith Mars. Why the hell are you talking to Keith Mars? I was right. This does have something to do with Ronnie, doesn't it?" 

Logan could see that Dick was becoming more and more agitated and that he'd probably worry himself sick if he wasn't given at least some explanation.

"Okay," he said, finally. "How about this? I'll tell you what I think it's safe for you to know, and you wait a little longer for the full story."

"Safe? Christ, Logan, what the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're gonna trust me, Dick, okay? You're gonna listen to what I have to say, and then you're gonna let it go for now."

Dick ran his hand through the fine blond strands that covered the top of his head, that he still wore a little longer than might be appropriate, the last vestiges of his "surfer dude" persona.

"Okay," he said finally, resigned.

Logan considered how much he should tell Dick. "I did see Veronica this weekend," he said finally. "I was up in San Francisco. And...she's maybe in a little bit of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" It was the question that Logan had expected.

"That's...what I can't tell you. I wish I could." He squeezed Dick's arm, a silent request for his support. "You just gotta trust me on this," he said.

Dick was quiet for a long time, but when he finally spoke his words surprised Logan.

"Dude," Dick hesitated just a little before continuing. "Me and Ronnie, sometimes we didn't always...get along so great. I guess we kinda...got on each others' nerves. But, hell, Logan, it's Ronnie. So...if there's anything I can do, you just...you just let me know."

Logan was touched. It was the last thing he'd expected. "You can bet your ass I'll do that, Dick," he said.

 

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She would have denied it with her last breath, but all day on Monday, Veronica had expected that her phone would ring and that Logan would be on the other end. Not that she wanted to hear from him, exactly. Sunday afternoon had been disconcerting enough. She didn't need more of the same. She didn't need to hear his voice, with that odd little hitch he sometimes had when he spoke to her. 

Besides, she'd already decided that it would be impossible to maintain a friendship with him. In fact, she'd decided it several times. Every time she wavered, she'd decided it all over again.

But still, why the hell hadn't he called?

She'd fallen into bed on Sunday night in a stupor, and then tossed and turned all night. Hell, if she was being honest, she'd not really slept well since her first glimpse of Logan Echolls across the Farnsworths' vast living room, but the cumulative loss of sleep was now becoming critical. She'd felt "barely there" all day, and her boss finally noticed.

"Hey, Mars," Len said, as he passed by her desk. "Didn't I give you Friday afternoon off so you could get some rest? What the hell did you do with the rest of your weekend, kid, because you look worse today than you did on Friday."

"Yeah?" she said, barely looking up from the witness statements she'd been cross-checking all day.

Veronica's utter failure to produce a snappy retort brought Rosetti up short. He stopped in his tracks, leaned back against the file cabinets, and studied her.

"Something wrong, Mars?" he asked, and Veronica heard the concern in his voice.

She was contemplating what she could possibly tell him when she was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Veronica grabbed for it, thinking, "It's about time," so sure was she that it was Logan calling at last. It was fortunate she glanced down at the Caller ID.

"Dad," she answered it, "what a surprise."

She shrugged at Rosetti apologetically, and he nodded, leaving her to her call.

"Why such a surprise?" Keith said. "Can't a father call his only daughter whom he hasn't seen in months?"

"Dad," she laughed, "you were here three weeks ago. And of course you can call, but you never do call during the day. I keep telling you it's okay, and you keep saying that you don't want to bother me. So what's different about today?"

Veronica was smiling broadly now, immediately comforted just by the sound of her father's voice.

"Well, actually, Veronica, I wanted to catch you at work because I wondered if you could arrange to take tomorrow off. Or maybe just the afternoon."

"Um, I guess," she said. "Are you coming up or something? What's going on?" She was becoming concerned. Her father was as predictable as the sun, and he never called her at work or made surprise visits.

"Is something wrong, Dad? Are you...are you sick or something?" Veronica felt a sudden jolt of fear.

"No! Nothing like that, honey. I promise you, I'm perfectly fine. I just need to come up and talk to you about something."

"Dad..."

"Nothing to do with my health! Please don't worry."

"Okay, I think I can probably take the afternoon," she said finally. "When do you think you'll get in?"

"About one. We'll come right to your place. See you tomorrow, honey," he said hanging up.

It was only then that her dad's words actually penetrated.

"Wait!" she said into the phone. "Dad! Dad!" But he'd already hung up.

Who the hell is 'we'? she asked herself, hanging up her phone.

Veronica went to bed early that night. The truth was that she'd barely been able to keep her eyes open while she ate the Chinese takeout that she'd stopped for on her way home. With everything that had happened weighing her down and disturbing her sleep for the past few nights, Veronica's body had finally reached the point of utter collapse. 

But she went to bed disgruntled. She wasn't sure if she was more upset with Logan Echolls for failing to call her or with herself for being so distressed that she hadn't heard from him.

At work on Tuesday morning, even Len could see that Veronica was more rested, although she seemed distracted. He was still a little concerned.

"Why don't you see if your doctor can fit you in this afternoon?" he suggested as she got ready to leave for the day. "Maybe you need to get checked out."

"Don't worry, Len, my dad is about the best medicine I could get," she said, smiling. "Him and the pasta I'm going to talk him into buying me for lunch."

By the time Veronica made it back to her apartment, it was nearly one, but thankfully her dad had still not arrived. She rushed into her bedroom to change into something a bit more casual than the business suit that was the prescribed attire for DDAs. She had just grabbed some sandals when she heard a knock on her door.

"Be right there, Dad," she yelled, hopping on one foot as she attempted to walk and put on her shoes at the same time. A moment later, Veronica swung the door open.

"Dad," she said, her smile turning to puzzlement when she realized who was with him. "And...Logan? I...I don't understand."

Logan nodded. "Hello again, Veronica," he said, unable to keep the smile off his face or out of his voice.

"Hi," she said, trying her best not to return his smile. "And now I'm going to need an explanation for why you're both here together," she said, searching their faces for a clue.

"Well, if you'll let us in, honey, you'll get one," Keith said, giving her a hug and walking past her into the apartment. Logan followed, but thought it best to omit the hug.

Veronica closed the door behind them, struggling with how strange it felt that her father and her...husband were standing together in her living room.

"Well, I'm waiting," she said, looking from one to the other, her foot beginning to tap and her arms crossed front of her. It was clear from her stance that she knew that something had been happening behind the scenes, something that concerned her, and only now were these two men about to make her aware of it. 

Veronica didn't like being kept in the dark.

Logan nodded at Keith, who turned to his daughter and sighed, "Honey, I think you'd better sit down. In fact, I think we should all sit down. This might take a while."


	13. Part II - Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the italics were removed by the AO3 program when the chapter was posted and could not be edited back in. Anything written in the first person is the character's thoughts and was intended to be italicized.

Part II - Chapter 8

An uncomfortable silence fell as the three of them stood together in Veronica's small living room. She wondered what could possibly have occurred that had not only brought her father all the way from Neptune, but also required the presence of Logan Echolls. And the men considered what might be the least hurtful way to apprise her of certain facts that she'd definitely be happier never knowing.

"Dad," she said finally, hazarding a guess, "if this has anything to do with our...divorce..." She shot a look at Logan.

"It doesn't," Keith said. "But," he added reluctantly, "Logan did explain about the problem with the divorce."

"But then why...?" she began, and both men could see that she wasn't happy that they'd been discussing her personal business.

Keith glanced at Logan before interrupting her. "He had to tell me, honey, so I'd understand what he was doing in San Francisco. And before you ask, there's a good reason why Logan's here right now."

"Keith," Logan interjected at this point, "I don't know. Maybe I should just leave..."

"Not on your life, mister," Veronica asserted, turning on him. "Not until I find out what's going on."

She huffed a sigh and smiled resignedly. "Okay," she said, moving toward the couch. "Let's hear it." As she sat, Veronica turned and quirked a brow at her father. "I suppose this means I'm not getting any lasagna for lunch."

Logan smiled and pulled out his phone. "I'll have some delivered from La Dolce Vita," he said. "Enough for all of us."

When lunch had been ordered and the three were settled into their seats, Veronica once again turned to her father for an explanation.

Keith wondered how to begin, but finally just plunged in.

"Veronica, how much do you know about Matthew? About his background, I mean?"

"Matthew!" That was the very last subject that Veronica had expected might have brought them to her door. And if it was Matthew they'd be talking about, she wondered again what Logan was doing there.

Veronica glanced back and forth between the two men, trying to get a read on the situation before she focused on her father again.

"Dad, I don't know what Logan has told you about Matthew. About how he's been acting." She looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye, but his face, for once, was unreadable.

"Logan's said nothing to me about Matthew's behavior, honey, and we're never going to get to the point if you keep interrupting."

Veronica looked mutinous. It was in her nature to ask questions. She pointedly pressed her lips together as if to promise she wouldn't interrupt. Keith wondered how long that would last.

"Is it your understanding that Matthew comes from a poor background and that he worked his way through college and law school?" Keith continued.

Veronica nodded. "That's right," she said. "But he also got some scholarships from the church. The Catholic Church, his old parish, I believe, in LA."

"Our Lady of Guadalupe."

"I don't know. I don't think I ever actually heard the name."

Keith nodded. "No, you probably wouldn't have. But that was the church in the neighborhood where he grew up."

He turned to Logan. "Did Garcia's daughter ever mention the name of the church to you?"

Logan, who had remained silent up to this point, was shaking his head in the negative when Veronica suddenly realized the implications of that question.

"When did you talk to Evie?" she asked slowly, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

Logan sighed, knowing that Veronica would probably be less than pleased by his answer.

"Evie called on Saturday morning and invited me to lunch," he explained. "And as it turned out, it's a good thing she did because that's what led to us finding out about...everything."

But Veronica had completely focused on the first part of his statement.

"You took Evie to lunch, Logan? Are you in the habit of dating children, now?" He could tell that she was annoyed.

"She's not a child, Veronica," he defended himself, "and besides, it wasn't a date. Two of her girlfriends came with us. I spent the afternoon in 'entertainer mode'." He smiled wryly.

"And were you busy with Evie yesterday, too?" she asked, before she could stop herself. "Is that why you didn't call me?" 

She could have bitten off her tongue the moment the words were out of her mouth.

At first, Logan was dismayed by her anger, but when he fully comprehended what she'd just said to him, he couldn't hold back a tiny smile.

"Did you want me to call you, Veronica?" he asked. "I can tell you exactly where I was yesterday. I went back to Neptune to help sort out everything with your dad."

"It doesn't matter," she said dismissively, trying like hell to backpedal from her revealing outburst.

"I would've called if I'd known you wanted me to," Logan said softly, touching her shoulder and smiling into her eyes. "I won't make that mistake again."

Veronica shrugged his hand away, as if to stress that she didn't care, that she didn't give a shit if she ever heard from him again, that she was completely indifferent. But Logan had seen the corners of her mouth curl up.

As Keith sat there observing the two of them, a strong feeling of déjà vu swept over him. He would never understand their relationship, he told himself for the hundredth time.

He cleared his throat. "So if you two are finished...?"

Veronica gave a quick nod as Logan smirked happily, more optimistic than he'd been in years. They both gave their attention to Keith.

"Logan, why don't you show Veronica the picture you took when you picked up Evie Garcia for lunch on Saturday?"

Logan took out his phone and pulled up the picture of the two men, first with Evie in the shot, and then without her.

"That's the front door of Matthew's building," she said, recognizing it immediately. "but I definitely don't know these two guys...wait!...the younger one looks familiar."

"Yeah, that's what caught my attention, too," Logan agreed. He moved the camera roll forward to the edited photos that Mac had made for him until he came to the picture he wanted to show her.

"Mac helped with this part," he said. "Turning them into separate shots. Then I sent this pic to Weevil and..."

Veronica nodded as the penny finally dropped. "Weevil." she said. "Of course! That's Chardo Navarro." 

"Bingo!" Logan confirmed. "And guess what our old buddy Chardo is up to these days, according to his grandma? No? No guesses?" he said, pursing his lips and quirking his brows at Veronica

"Up to no good, I'd say. But what particular flavor of 'no good' I wouldn't want to guess."

"Well, according to what Lety told Weevil, he's mixed up with drug dealers."

"Okay," she said, nodding, still perplexed about how Chardo Navarro might connect up to anything in her life.

"When I heard that," Logan continued, "I sent the picture of his amigo, the old guy, to Keith so that he could look into him."

Keith took up the story at that point. "Leo gave me a hand with this part," he told her.

"Leo? Leo D'Amato? Is he...where is he?" She hadn't thought about Leo in years.

Keith nodded. "Detective D'Amato of the San Diego PD. And we got lucky. According to a member of the SDPD Gangs and Drugs Task Force, this man," he said, pointing to Chardo Navarro's companion, "is a highly placed member of the Gutierrez drug cartel named Vicente Salazar."

"What?!" Veronica said, shocked. "And Chardo is ...?"

"His flunky, according to Evie Garcia," Logan interjected.

"Evie...knows these two?" Veronica's head was beginning to spin.

Keith sighed. This was going to be the hard part. "Not Chardo. She'd never seen him before, according to what she told Logan. But Salazar? Yes, she knows him. Has known him for years."

"But...how?" Veronica was incredulous. "Evie's a little...out of control, but she isn't the type to know drug lords."

Logan and Keith looked at each other in wordless communication. Logan knew that she would probably take the news better from her father, but he could see that Keith was struggling with having to disillusion her this way.

Finally Veronica spoke.

"Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on!" she insisted.

Logan sighed and looked at her directly. "It isn't Evie who knows Salazar," he said. "It's her father." 

"What? That's...that's impossible!" Her denial was immediate, as he'd expected it would be. Her arms crossed in front of her chest in the classic gesture of disbelief.

"Yeah, well it may be 'impossible', but it's still true," Logan insisted, determined to make her understand. "Evie herself told me that this man, Salazar, has been visiting their house ever since she can remember. Garcia refers to him as "padrino," which is Spanish for mentor or something. In any case, it's a term of respect."

"Evie's an idiot!" Veronica shot back immediately. "She's probably mistaken him for someone else." 

Oh, goody, Logan thought. Stubborn Veronica has decided to put in an appearance. 

"Or else...or else you're mistaken!" Veronica continued. "Or you're just trying to discredit Matthew. You're...you're jealous," she finished in a huff.

Logan shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

Veronica turned toward her father, beseeching. "Dad...?"

Keith sighed. He knew it hadn't been fair to let Logan take point on this, but it was damned hard for him to think about telling her something so hurtful. He shook his head. Obviously, Logan had more courage than he did.

"Veronica, I know you don't want to hear this, but we wouldn't be here if we hadn't checked everything out thoroughly. Evie Garcia told Logan the man has been visiting her father for years, and why should she lie about that? Her father refers to him using a term of great respect. That's what we started with. That, and the fact that Chardo Navarro, known to be involved with drug dealers, is the old man's current gofer."

Veronica said nothing but Keith knew that she was listening.

"Then Garcia's padrino is identified as a high-ranking member of the Gutierrez drug cartel by a detective in the San Diego PD's Gangs and Drugs Unit." 

He looked at her. "Are you following so far?" 

Veronica gave a curt nod.

"At that point, there was no other logical conclusion than that Matthew Garcia had a long-term connection with a member of a drug cartel. You must be able to see how that made his whole background story...suspect. So we looked into it. I found out that his old pastor at Our Lady of Guadalupe was living at a retirement home for priests in Santa Barbara, so I sent Trini Acevedo to talk to him. You remember Trini?"

Veronica barely nodded. The rest of her was as still as a stone.

"Fr. Alvarez had been the pastor from the early eighties, when Garcia was just a kid, until his retirement in 1999. He confirmed that it was Vicente Salazar who paid for Garcia's eduction for eleven years, from his enrollment at a prestigious parochial high school all the way through law school. Not the church, never the church. There were no scholarships. The church was just the...middleman, the cover." 

He huffed a small laugh. "In exchange for his...cooperation, the cartel apparently provided the funds for a much-needed parish hall. That's why Fr. Alvarez did it, why he made that particular deal with the devil."

Keith stopped then, waiting for the barrage of questions that he was sure were coming from his inquisitive daughter, but she had only one.

"But why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why would they pay for the education of this young boy? He was poor. He lived with his grandmother. He was...no one."

Logan shook his head at her inability to see what was right in front of her and took up the narrative.

"Exactly. He was smart, but his parents were dead and there was little chance that he could ever have afforded any kind of higher education, let alone go to law school. So when Salazar came along and told him...and his grandmother...about men who were willing to make all his dreams come true, it probably felt like he'd won the lottery. At least at first. He must have figured out who his benefactors were eventually."

She nodded her head slowly, seeing how it might have happened.

"He was...an investment, Veronica," Logan continued quietly. "They paid his tuitions, made sure he did well enough to make the right connections, and then sat back and waited."

"Waited...for what?" She still hadn't put it together in her head. She was still trying to come to terms with the idea that Matthew Garcia was not who she thought he was. That he likely never had been.

"For right now," Logan explained it to her. "For this election. To make sure that they get an Attorney General who would be firmly in their pocket. I looked into the election politics to try to get a handle on it. The current AG isn't very popular. He's vulnerable. And guess what his claim to fame is? What's the biggest plank in his campaign platform this year?"

Veronica shook her head. She had no idea.

"The cartels, Veronica. He's pledged to spend the next four years doing everything in his power, putting all the authority and influence of the AG's office, into ridding California of the cartels. That would be his focus if he's re-elected."

"And Matthew," she looked up at him with dawning comprehension, "keeps talking about corruption in local government. He's mentioned it over and over. And I...I thought it was such a noble cause because all I could think about was the corruption in Neptune. But it would mean that...if he won, that's what he would focus on. On government corruption...not on the drug cartels." 

They could see that the wheels were spinning once more inside Veronica's brain.

"When he proposed...it was...so sudden." Her voice was so soft, she almost seemed to be talking to herself. "It...it seemed to come out of nowhere. And I tried to...put him off. But he said he needed an answer right away."

As it all became clearer to her, Veronica became more and more agitated.

"I seem to remember from some poli sci class or other that conventional wisdom is that married candidates are more...electable. And...Matthew...had never mentioned any political aspirations, and then...all of a sudden he has this great desire to run for Attorney General. I'd only agreed to marry him a couple of days before."

She was angry now as the sequence of events unspooled in her head.

"I ignored the little voice in my head that wondered about the timing of his proposal because I thought what he was doing was great. An extraordinary sacrifice. After all, he could make so much more money in private practice. He didn't have to run for office." Her voice was becoming strident. "But I got that wrong, didn't I?"

She looked at her two visitors, both of whom had stilled as she continued her monologue, as her anger turned to fury.

"I am such a fool! Such a fucking idiot! He used me. They told him he had to run and he suddenly needed a wife. He needed a wife for the...the campaign trail! And I was...handy! He liked to 'show me off'. Oh, I knew that, and I was kind of..flattered. I thought he was proud of me, but he was just..."

Tears filled her eyes as she looked over at them. Veronica had never in her life felt more humiliated. Without another word, she jumped up from the couch, ran into her bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

Keith got up, but Logan put a hand on his arm. "Let me," he said.

Logan knocked on her bedroom door, calling softly, "Veronica? Veronica, I'm coming in now."

He opened the door and found her huddled on her bed near the headboard, looking at nothing but the wall. He thought she might be crying, but when she turned toward him, her face was filled with anger. He sat down on the end of the bed.

"I suppose you're enjoying this," she said, bitterly. "I just can't seem to help myself when it comes to choosing men. Always the wrong one."

"Not always," he said pointedly. "And why the hell would you think I'd enjoy something that's obviously made you so miserable."

Miserable? Veronica thought about that word. Was she miserable? She was humiliated, that was certain. And she was just about as angry as she'd been in a long, long time. And she had a feeling that "vengeful Veronica" might be making an appearance very soon. But...miserable?

Her lips twisted as she sighed. "I don't know if I'm..miserable. We...it wasn't like that with Matthew and me, Logan. It wasn't like..." she stopped herself just in time, before she finished that sentence, before she said 'like us'. 

Veronica tried to make him understand why she felt so violated. "Just because we, Matthew and I," she paused, searching for the right words, "just because we weren't...emotionally invested in each other...doesn't mean he has the right to use me like that. He thought nothing of dragging me into his...his mess of a life, with his criminal associates, and completely screwing up my life. I'm a prosecutor, for god's sake!"

She looked at Logan, and he could see outrage in every line of her face.

"So maybe I'm not heartbroken, but that sure isn't going to stop me from calling him and ripping him a new one," she declared, reaching toward where her phone sat on the bedside table.

"No, that's just what you can't do!" Logan said, grabbing the phone before she could get to it.

"What do you mean!" Veronica was indignant. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting this go!"

"Of course not..." Logan was trying to think how to explain it to her when there was a soft knock on her bedroom door. 

"Food's arrived, kids," Keith said. "Let's eat it while it's hot."

xxxxxxxx

Keith had set up the food and plates along the granite-topped island that doubled as an eating area in Veronica's apartment.

"Someday, I'm going to live in a place that has an actual table just for eating," she said as she scrambled up onto a stool.

Logan peered at her over his fork, and raised his brows.

"Someplace that's actually mine," she amended, remembering the large kitchen with a table at one end that they'd used in Logan's beach house.

"So...you ordered this stuff from La Dolce Vita." She smiled just a little. "I presume you got takeout from there on Saturday and brought it over to Mac?" she asked.

"Yup," he confirmed. "I figured I should feed her before I asked her to help me out with the pictures." He grinned. "Of course, I don't have to ply her with quite so much food as I do you."

"Ha! Ha!" she said, grinning in return, but then her grin turned to a grimace and she dropped her fork on her plate.

"So explain to me why it is that I can't call Matthew right now and tell him what I think of his marriage proposal - not to mention his old friends."

There was nothing Logan would have liked to see more but he knew it couldn't happen that way.

"Veronica," Keith jumped in before he could say a word. "You have to be careful."

"Of what? You think Matthew might hurt me? I'd like to see him try!"

Logan put his hand on her arm so that she'd turn to face him. He took her fork from her and placed it on her plate, then picked up both of her hands in his own.

"Veronica," he said softly, "if you remember, in high school we had to deal with our local version of the Irish mob. The Fitzpatricks were, if you'll pardon the pun, small potatoes, but they were just as dangerous and just as deadly as any of the old-time gangsters."

"I'll attest to that," Keith said, nodding, from his seat on the other side of Veronica.

"Then," Logan continued, "when we were at Hearst, we managed to piss off the Russian mafia. If Gorya Sorokin's father hadn't thought his son was an asshole for starting unnecessary trouble, I'd probably be dead right now."

"Dammit, Veronica, I knew there was something you hadn't told me!" Keith interjected heatedly.

"Well, thanks, big mouth," Veronica hissed at Logan.

"I don't care,Veronica," he said. "I don't care if there are things you haven't told Keith. I'm not interested in keeping secrets. I'm interested in pointing out to you that none of those crime syndicates can compare to a Mexican drug cartel. You don't want to come anywhere near these people."

Veronica pulled her hands away and picked up her fork so she could resume eating.

"But I already am," she said. "I'm already involved. Matthew involved me when he...invited me into his life."

"But they don't know that you know! That's the key. You have to find a way to back away from Garcia without letting him know - without letting anybody know - that you know he's a cartel asset."

When Veronica looked at him, he could see comprehension dawning.

"Otherwise, you won't be safe, and Matthew would probably be in some jeopardy, too. Not that I give two shits about that right at this moment," Logan muttered, under his breath.

They finished the rest of their lunch in silence, each thinking about the best course of action to take. Finally, Keith spoke up.

"I think we shouldn't overlook the obvious solution to the problem," he said finally. The other two looked up with blank faces, and Keith wondered how they could be so oblivious.

"Well," he continued carefully, "it does seem...providential...that everything is coming to light at the same time. The...ah...issue with your divorce and then finding out that Matthew Garcia is...not exactly what he seemed."

He looked at his daughter, hoping she'd catch on without him having to spell it out. "Don't you think so, honey?" he said.

Veronica frowned, not understanding. "But Matthew already knows about the...glitch...in the divorce," she said. "He's not going to accept that as a reason for me to break it off with him."

Keith sighed. "I wasn't thinking of the divorce, Veronica." he said. He shook his head, wondering when his daughter had become so obtuse. "I was thinking of Logan."

"Logan?" she murmured.

But while Veronica was still in the dark, Keith could see by the smirk on his face that Logan had caught on.

"Yes, Veronica. Logan. Who is still legally your husband, if you recall. Just tell Garcia that you realized after seeing him that you still...ah...love Logan and so you're breaking up with him. See," he added, "simple."

Logan was leaning his elbow on the counter, face in hand, peering around at Veronica, waiting to see what she'd say. Which, when it came, was completely predictable, he thought.

"I can't do that!" she said, her face scarlet. "He'd...he'd never believe it!"

"Yeah?" challenged Logan. "Why the hell not?"

"Because I haven't seen you in years! No one would believe that I would just...just fall into your arms again."

"Maybe no one who doesn't know you two," Keith muttered, half under his breath.

"Dad!" Veronica was outraged, but Logan's lips twisted in a wry grin.

"Okay, then," her father asked. "What's your plan?"

Veronica swung down from the stool and started clearing away all the remnants from their lunch, putting the paper bags into the trash cans and rinsing the plates off in the sink. When the small kitchen area was tidy again, she turned to the men with a satisfied look on her face.

"You want simple? How's this? I just don't want to be a political wife. I can't marry a man who's running for office. And since he can't change his mind, he'll have to agree. There!" she said. "Just as simple and much more believable than that story about me still...wanting to be with Logan."

The smirk had never left Logan's face. "Yeah, well, I don't know about more believable. I thought the other option was very believable." His smirk turned to a grin when she glared at him. "But I think it's a plan that might just work."

"It should." Veronica took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Because it has the added advantage of being true."

"What?" Keith and Logan said in almost the same breath.

Veronica shrugged tiredly. "Once I found out about the political campaign, I should have realized I could never go through with...the marriage. But I just thought, well if this is what he wants, and I've already given my word...and how difficult could it be?"

She sighed. "And I was convinced that he was doing something worthwhile, making a sacrifice, and so, I could, too," she finished. "It wasn't very...realistic."

She looked at the other two. "So I'll only be telling him what I would have had to say sooner or later anyway."

"Yeah, well, under the circumstances," Logan remarked acerbically, "I vote for 'sooner'."

Veronica nodded her agreement. "How about this evening?" she asked. Then, "Oh, shit." She frowned suddenly.

"What's the matter, now?" Keith wanted to know.

"The ball. The charity ball this Saturday night. I already promised that I'd attend with him. For some reason, he seemed to think it was very important to his campaign. He'll...he's bound to wonder why I'm breaking my promise to him, since he made such a big deal out of it."

"Well, since we're not really rooting for his success on the campaign trail, why should you give a damn?" Logan asked.

"Because," and her expression said he'd failed to think it through, "the Veronica from an hour ago, the one who didn't know about his connection to the Mexican mafia, would never break a promise like that. And he knows that."

"Do you...could you wait until after the ball to break up with him, honey?" Keith asked, frowning.

But Veronica was already shaking her head. "I can't keep this inside of me for that long. I...I want him to know it's over. But," she considered her options, "I can tell him that we're over, but that I'll still attend the ball with him. That's what Veronica...what I...would do if I didn't know."

"Are you sure you're going to be...comfortable...at that ball, Veronica?" her father asked.

She shrugged. "No, I'm sure I won't be, but it's the best I can come up with."

"Not quite the best," Logan weighed in then, his phone already out and a sly smile on his face. "I think I might have a tiny, little improvement."

Keith and Veronica watched, perplexed, as Logan scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted. He pressed Send and waited for the line to be picked up.

"Hey, Evie," he said, "it's Logan Echolls. Yes, I'm still in San Francisco," he added, after a pause.

"So," he continued, "I was wondering if you're not doing anything if you'd like to go to a charity ball this Saturday night."

Logan watched as Veronica's eyes widened and her face went slack.

"Nope, haven't changed my mind. I still think you're way too young for me. This would be just as friends. I thought we could...uh...double-date with your dad and Veronica."

They could hear what sounded like laughter on the other end of the line, and then...

"What makes you think I'm up to something? Do I seem like the kind of guy who might be up to something?" There was now a smirk on Logan's face. "Oh, I do, huh?"

By this time, Logan was laughing as well, while Veronica looked like she was ready to kill him.

"So where do I get these tickets, anyway? Do you know anybody...? She does! That's great. Why don't you text me her...you already did. Very efficient, princess."

"Great," he finished up. "You can tell your dad I'll arrange for a limo to take us all. See you Saturday."

Veronica gaped as Logan hung up the phone, then turned on her heel and marched back into her room, this time slamming the door behind her.

 

xxxxxxxx

When Veronica retreated to her room for the second time in as many hours, Logan spent only a short time trying to coax her out. Then he got angry. It was when she heard him call her short-sighted and childish that she finally flung open the door to find him standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and an obstinate expression on his face.

"Finally!" he said. "The prima donna has decided to grace us with her presence."

"Prima donna?" she practically spat it out. "I just...I don't need to be...baby-sat!" Her eyes narrowed. "Or is this just an excuse for you to see Evie again?!" 

Logan's eyes lit up as a new thought entered his head. "You're jealous, Mars. Admit it." He grinned at her. "But there's no reason to be. I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Arrgh! You are such a conceited jackass," she said. "I am not jealous. And I don't need you to make sure I'm okay. I've been taking care of myself just fine for the Past. Six. Years." Each word was accompanied by a poke in what she came to realize were Logan's extremely fit abs.

In desperation, she peeked around Logan to where her father sat on the couch reading the newspaper and apparently paying little attention to either of them.

"Dad," she pleaded. "Help me out here. Tell Logan he doesn't need to..to tag along on my date."

"Sorry, honey," her father said, turning the page of the newspaper. "I think it's a fine idea. I know I'll feel a lot more comfortable if I know you're not on your own on Saturday,"

Veronica had reached the end of her tether. "Eeeeeh!" was what came out of her mouth as she stomped around the kitchen in frustration. She knew she was acting like a six-year-old. In truth, she'd been better behaved when she was six years old, but she simply couldn't seem to control anything about herself lately so she'd given up trying. 

She couldn't seem to control her mouth, which is why she knew she sounded like a jealous schoolgirl. And she couldn't control her actions. Look at her now, she thought, acting like a spoiled brat. And worst of all, she couldn't control her thoughts. Hadn't been able to, really, since she'd first caught sight of Logan five days ago. 

Although she'd tried. God knows she'd tried.

But her emotions had been all over the place and with Logan - and her father - sitting in her very small apartment, she didn't know how she would ever manage to acquire the equilibrium she would need for her delicate meeting with Matthew. It was suddenly brought home to her that she needed to be alone.

"Okay, you two," she said abruptly. "Out!" 

"What?" Logan said, surprised that she was actually throwing them out. 

"You heard me. Both of you. Out!" Veronica needed to call Matthew and then decide what she would say to him later. Both tasks would take some mental preparation.

"Uh, where do you expect me to go, Veronica?" Keith asked, mildly. "I always just bunk on this couch."

"Come on, Keith," Logan said. "I have a suite and you can bunk on my couch instead."

"Yeah, go ahead, Dad. I seem to recall that Logan has a penchant for enormous hotel rooms. His suite is probably bigger than this apartment."

It wasn't until Logan looked at her, so quietly, so intimately, that she recalled exactly which hotel room she was alluding to. He smiled at her softly, and she turned away, amazed that she had been able to refer to that terrible time, even so obliquely.

They hadn't been out the door more than a few minutes when Veronica picked up her phone and pressed a number on speed dial.

"Matthew," she said when he answered, "I really need to speak to you and it can't wait. What time do you think you'll be home?"

xxxxxxxx

It wasn't completely unprecedented for Veronica to call him in the middle of the work day, but neither was it commonplace, and Matthew was a little...disquieted. She said she had something urgent she wanted talk to him about as soon as he returned home, and he couldn't think of a good reason to put her off. 

Later, he wished he had put her off because Padrino called and said that he'd be stopping by. He certainly didn't want them running into each other, although he wondered why he should care. There was nothing...sinister...about Padrino. He was just an old family friend that Matthew had known since childhood. 

But of course that was only half the story.

He'd been barely 13 when he'd made the decision to take their money. Just a child, really, so technically it had been up to his grandmother. But Matthew had always understood that it was his call. And even then he'd known. He'd known that men like these didn't give away educations for nothing, that he wouldn't be handed a ticket to the good life and never have to pay up. That eventually there would come a day of reckoning.

But so many years had gone by, more than thirty, in fact, that Matthew had begun to think that maybe he'd been given a free pass after all. But it was not to be. Six weeks ago, a decision had been made that the current Attorney General could not be allowed to retain his office. If this had been Mexico, Matthew knew that there'd have been a different...method...employed to oust an unwanted politician. But this was the States, and that sort of activity would bring down the wrath of a dozen different law enforcement agencies, and shine a spotlight where it most definitely was not wanted. 

No, in this country, one didn't kill politicians. Instead, one bought elections.

But first, there must be a viable candidate, and that candidate had to be seen to have a groundswell of support from "salt of the earth" types like Jim Farnsworth. That way, when money was spent on campaign ads and other means of persuading the electorate, it would be assumed that there was vast support from the community. There were plenty of campaign financing laws in place, of course, but there were always ways around such impediments.

So the businessmen that Matthew had been forced to dine with on so many long, boring evenings contributed, in reality, only a pittance to his campaign fund. His real support came from faceless men who understood how to hide their financial transactions from the prying eyes of the government. Men like his padrino, Vicente Salazar, and others of his ilk. Others to whom Matthew Garcia owed his wealth, his prominence, his success.

Matthew's role was to become the perfect candidate. He already had the sympathetic background. Americans were so charmingly naive, he thought. They loved the underdog. They yearned to hear about the poor boy who'd made good. The American ethos idealized such tales, and Matthew Garcia's was almost too good to be true.

All he'd needed was the perfect woman by his side. These days, it didn't matter that he'd been divorced; half the country had been divorced. But a second marriage would show that he hadn't lost his optimism, and that someone found him worthy of affection.

When he'd been informed with very little warning that he'd be giving up his private practice and running for office, Veronica had already been a part of his life. But he'd not thought of proposing. Indeed, at the time he'd wondered if Veronica ever wanted to get married. There was some irony to that, he thought now, considering what he'd later learned about her early marriage.

But he'd been relieved when she'd agreed to marry him, because he knew he'd never find anyone else who suited him so well. Instinct told him it would be better to secure her acceptance before he informed her of his plans to run for office, but when he later told her of his political plans, she'd said surprisingly little. 

Veronica was the first person on which he tried out his scripted reasons for running for office. It was a veritable trifecta of platitudes, beginning with his childhood dream of being Attorney General, moving on to 'giving back to the community', and ending with a mild diatribe against corruption in local government. Surprisingly, it was that last that seemed to finally win some approval in her eyes.

When he'd been told what was expected of him, Matthew had been unconvinced that he could pull it off. But with Veronica on board, both as his fiancée and his political helpmeet, he'd begun to think that it might just be possible.

And now everything was falling apart, ever since that damned husband of hers had shown up. Not that he was worried about Echolls. The man might have gotten a little hot under the collar the other night, but Evie had just told him that Echolls was taking her to the charity ball on Saturday, so Matthew didn't see any sort of reconciliation on the horizon between Veronica and her almost-ex. It had been years, anyway.

But it was clear that something was on Veronica's mind, and he had a feeling that whatever it was, he wasn't going to be pleased.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica had thought carefully about how to approach Matthew. She needed to break their engagement in a way that left no room for any lingering fantasies on his part that she might ever change her mind. But nothing in her manner or her words or her tone could let on that she knew that he was a fucking mobster. Veronica clenched her fists. That was priority one.

As she rode the elevator to the penthouse condo for what she hoped would be the last time, Veronica wished she could slip into one of those personas that she used have at the ready, back when she was working cases. Amber, maybe. Yeah, Amber wouldn't have any trouble breaking up with Matthew. She'd just say, "Uh, I don't think I wanna get married right now, ya know?" And then ditz her way out. Somehow, she didn't think that was going to work with Matthew. He hadn't proposed to Amber.

Veronica stepped out of the elevator and took a deep breath as she raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened before her knuckles could make contact.

"You're late," Matthew said, looking at his watch, clearly annoyed. "You said you'd be here at six and it's nearly six-fifteen. I really wish you'd learn to be more punctual, Veronica."

Heck, maybe this was gonna be easier than she'd thought, Veronica reflected, staring at him. Because suddenly, Matthew looked like someone she'd never seen before in her life. A complete stranger. She couldn't believe she'd dated him, slept with him, let alone agreed to marry him. 

Was it just the revelation that he was not the honorable and admirable man she'd once thought him to be, but instead something much more...sinister? Or was it something more? Was she somehow a different person than the one who a few short weeks ago had cheerfully agreed to accept his proposal? Veronica wasn't sure.

But for now, she opened her mouth to apologize. "I'm sorry. I...the buses were running late."

She omitted mention of the fifteen minutes she'd spent pacing in front of the building, trying to psych herself up for the performance of the century.

"You took the bus?" Matthew threw up his hands in exasperation. "Well, you're here now," he said. "Why don't you come back to my sitting room and we can talk there?"

Matthew had considered the possibility that Padrino might arrive before Veronica left, and while it was illogical, and there was no reason why his visitors shouldn't meet, he was stubbornly superstitious about his desire to keep them apart if he could. If he heard Padrino knock while Veronica was still there, he'd show him to his office and make some excuse while he quickly got rid of Veronica. 

Matthew's sitting room was a small, comfortable room at one end of the master suite. On the few nights that Veronica had stayed with him, she'd enjoyed having morning coffee in the room, which had a wonderful view of the city. Veronica referred to the room as cozy, while to Matthew, it was simply 'small'.

As they sat, he noticed that she seemed stiff. Instead of sinking down into her favorite chair, she sat on the edge, as if poised for flight.

Alarm bells went off inside Matthew's head.

Veronica had never thought she could be uncomfortable in this room, which she'd loved from the first moment she'd seen it. Even the masculine decor couldn't completely hide the room's warmth and charm. But today, she was far too nervous to be charmed, and she could see from Matthew's wary expression that neither of them were comfortable. 

She thought she might just as well get it over with.

"Matthew," she began, in as pleasant a voice as possible, "I'm, uh, afraid I have something that I need to tell you. I'm so sorry, but.."

"No!" Matthew jumped up from his chair. "You can't do this to me!"

"I...can't?" Veronica was so startled that she said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Veronica, you promised. And a promise is a sacred thing. You can't go back on your word now!" Matthew was very insistent.

And Veronica was becoming very, very angry. "Who says..?" she began.

"It's only a few hours out of your life. How can you break your promise over a few hours?" 

Matthew's eyes were flashing, and Veronica could feel some strong emotion rolling off him in waves. It felt very much like...fear.

And then his words finally penetrated her brain.

"Matthew," she said, as calmly as she could. "What is it that you think we're talking about here?"

"The...the ball, of course. You're trying to get out of attending after you promised. Even your friend Echolls is going. He's invited Evie. Perhaps you didn't know," he said as though this might be an inducement to persuade her to change her mind and attend after all.

"The..ball," Veronica said slowly. "All this...over a ball."

Veronica shook her head in disbelief.

"Well," she continued, more briskly, "you'll be happy to hear that I didn't come here to renege on my promise to attend the ball with you."

Matthew's manner changed in an instant. His entire body seemed to sag with relief and he dropped back into his chair.

"Then if it's not...the ball, then what?" Matthew asked.

Veronica pulled herself up ramrod straight and decided to cut to the chase. "I'm so sorry, Matthew, I'm afraid I have to break our engagement," she said quickly. 

He sat there for a moment as if stupefied. Finally, he spoke. "That's...impossible," he said.

"Impossible?" Veronica repeated, her voice rising. She folded her hands together, making every effort to remain calm.

"I don't thinks it's 'impossible', Matthew. This isn't some...arranged marriage. I still have the power to decide who I'll marry. Or if I'll marry." Inside her head, she understood that his arrogance was a good thing. It would be easier to hide her fear if she were angry.

"Of course you do." he said stiffly. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she asked, letting her indignation show.

"I...I'd just like an explanation," he said, his efforts to remain calm apparent. "Even when you gave the ring back, you assured me that you were not breaking our engagement. And we spoke just two days ago and you said nothing like this to me then. Nothing. What's changed so suddenly?"

Veronica carefully schooled her features into lines of regret.

"You're right, Matthew. I should have been more...forthcoming. The truth is," she said, putting every ounce of her considerable acting skills into her line delivery, "I don't feel that I could be a...political wife. I don't have the right...temperament, and frankly, I'd find it boring as hell."

She sat back, waiting to see his response, hoping that he'd bought it.

He seemed bewildered. "But you never said this when I told you of my plans."

"That's true," she agreed. "But I've been thinking about this for a while and I just didn't share my...misgivings with you. And that wasn't fair of me. But it's been a few weeks now, we've had to attend a lot of political functions, and it's...clear to me now that it's...not how I want to spend my time, not how I want to spend my life."

"But what about...us?" he asked. "What about our...feelings for one another?"

Yeah, what about them, Veronica? she asked herself.

"Matthew, I've...enjoyed our relationship. You're a, uh, good person. But I think we both know that ours wasn't a fairytale with, uh, grand declarations of undying love."

"But...I understood that that's the sort of relationship you wanted. You've been very frank about this ever since I've known you." He was puzzled.

"Yes, of course, you're right. I simply meant that having found that we're not as...compatible...as we'd once thought, we'll be able to move on more easily since ours wasn't a...great romance."

"But we are compatible," he insisted. "We've gotten along nearly perfectly right from the beginning. We never even had a fight until...the other night."

Is that true? she asked herself. We've never had a fight? Did I even care about anything enough to fight with you about it?

Aloud she said, mentally crossing her fingers that she'd predicted his response correctly, "Well we were compatible, Matthew. You're absolutely right. And maybe if you were willing to give up your, uh, political aspirations...."

"You cannot ask me to do that!" he declared, his voice rising. "I...it's something I must do."

Yeah, I'll just bet it is.

"That's just it. I couldn't ask you to give up your dream. I just find that I can't be a part of it. I'm...I'm sorry, Matthew." Now that it was almost over, she found the effort of keeping her antipathy to herself was becoming more, rather than less, difficult.

As Matthew sat there across from her, she could see that he was struggling with a whole host of emotions, but anger and fear seemed to be vying for the top spot.

"About the ball...," he said finally, his voice strangled.

"I meant what I said earlier," she nodded. "I know it's the last big social event before the primaries and I don't want to leave you in the lurch, so if you still want me to go..."

"Yes, yes I do," he said immediately, relief showing on his face. "And...you'll wear the ring?" 

Matthew desperately needed to think about how to explain this turn of events. If he could at least have until next week. He must have that breather, she must wear the ring...

"The ring?" she said, perplexed. "I've just broken off our engagement and you still want me to wear that outrageously expensive ring?"

"I'd rather...keep this news to ourselves for a little while, Veronica. Even if you accompany me to the ball, if you're not wearing the ring, it might cause some negative...speculation. Which I can ill afford at this point in the, uh, campaign."

Veronica thought a moment about his request. "Matthew," she said, tentatively, "I'm not going to change my mind..."

"Dammit, Veronica!" Matthew said, startling her, pounding his fist on the arm of his chair, struggling to maintain his equanimity. "You've...given me some very bad news. Can you just...do this one thing for me?"

As she sat there with her mouth agape, wondering if jumping up and running out the door would look suspicious, he calmed as abruptly as he'd exploded.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm...under a lot of stress. If you could just...see your way clear to accompanying me to the ball, wearing your ring, I swear I would never ask another thing of you, Veronica. And we can part as...as friends."

Friends. Right. 

She'd known this event was important to him, but not how important. It made no sense to her, but Veronica decided to give in graciously.

"All right," she agreed. "But...I won't take the ring now. You keep it and bring it with you on Saturday, and I promise I'll wear it."

"Thank you, Veronica," Matthew said fervently, breathing a sigh of relief.

xxxxxxxx

If Matthew had only known that most of his conversation with Veronica had been overheard, and that nothing about it had pleased the eavesdropper, he'd have understood that his relief was decidedly...premature.

xxxxxxxxx

There were few things that Evie Garcia liked to do more than shop, and to shop for a dress for something like the charity ball was extra delicious. Even if she knew that her date had absolutely no romantic interest in her. How could he, she thought, when the torch he was so obviously carrying for his ex could have lit up the entire waterfront?

She wondered how long it would take her incredibly clueless father to catch on.

She'd entered the building laden down with shopping bags after spending the afternoon in successful pursuit of the perfect ensemble. Evie waved to the concierge and rushed down the marble hallway to catch the elevator just as the doors were closing. A hand reached out to keep them open until she and her bundles were safely inside.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, dropping her bags all over the elevator floor, turning to see who her savior was. 

"Oh, hello," she said stiffly, when she saw who'd held the elevator. She wondered what it was about the old man that always gave her the creeps. Even more so since the other day when Logan had asked about him.

"Twice in one week," she added, trying to make conversation. Maybe, she thought, she did need to work on her social graces.

"Indeed, Evangeline," he murmured. "Your father is one of my most cherished friends."

Evie looked at him blankly, not sure what that meant or how she should respond.

When they reached the top floor, Evie unlocked the door to the condo and Padrino waited politely for her to enter before following her inside. He directed his flunky - a new one, Evie noted - to carry her bags inside and then wait in the hallway.

"Uh, my father is expecting you, right?" she asked, uncertain what the protocol should be. "I'm, uh, not sure where he is right now, or even if he's home."

"I believe he is expecting me," Padrino said politely. "Why don't I just wait for him in his office? That is usually where we have our visit."

"Oh, uh,..." Evie hesitated. To show a visitor into Matthew's private office, where she herself was allowed only by invitation, seemed to be begging for her father's anger. On the other hand, this was the padrino , and she knew her father would be even angrier if she showed him anything less than the greatest respect. 

That decided her. "Of course, Padrino," she said politely, leading him down to her father's office before continuing on her way to her own suite of rooms.

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He hadn't been in the office long before Vicente Salazar realized that there were voices coming from within the master suite itself. He turned off the light and carefully opened the door that led from the office into the bedroom. A man and a woman were talking in the next room, and although they were speaking in normal tones, he found that the acoustics of the room, as well as the sharpness of his ears, allowed him to hear their conversation with little effort.

As he listened, he felt first surprise, then anger, and finally rage. Not only had Mateo seriously compromised their carefully laid plans with this woman who was now turning out to be useless, but it was clear that he was planning to try to deceive them. Insisting that she accompany him and pretend to be his querida? That she wear the ring that she was no longer entitled to? How long did he think they would be fooled?

As he stood there, he made the decision that the backup plan must be put into action. Some use must be found for this Anglo puta who had caught Matthew's eye. If Matthew could not attract the affection of the voters with a great romance, he would garner their sympathy with profound tragedy. Vicente would have preferred the former course, but the alternate plan would work as well.

He carefully closed the door to the bedroom and opened one on the other side of the office, stepping out onto the balcony and pulling out his phone. 

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One of the selling points of the extremely expensive condo that Matthew Garcia had purchased on Nob Hill after his divorce was the view. And to enhance that feature, a wide balcony had been constructed that wrapped around two sides of the building. The longer narrower leg stretched from the living room area to the master bedroom suite, where it could be accessed from the small room that Matthew used as an office. 

To her great delight, the shorter but wider leg ran alongside the second bedroom, which was occupied by Evie. And to make it even more enticing, the prior occupants had installed a hot tub on that section of the balcony. It was doubtful that Matthew Garcia would ever consider stepping into a hot tub, but to Evie, it was one of the few attractions of staying with her father.

A long afternoon of shopping and the warmth of the spring evening had persuaded Evie that a soak in the hot tub was exactly what she needed. She'd just stepped into the water and was about to pop in her earbuds when she heard a door open on the other leg of the balcony. This was odd, since she was the only one who ever used the balcony.

She heard only one man speaking, soon realizing it was the padrino, and that he must be on the phone. He was speaking in Spanish, and she was far from fluent, so it took some time for Evie to understand what she was hearing. It took even more time for Evie to believe what she was hearing. 

Evie sat in that tub for a full fifteen minutes after the padrino had left the balcony, as she tried to decide what to do. Speaking to her father was out of the question. But so was doing nothing at all. When the answer finally came, she sagged with relief and could only wonder why it had taken her so long to figure it out.

She knew she couldn't tell him over the phone, but appreciated that he'd probably be reluctant to have her come to his hotel. But that couldn't be helped. Evie showered and dressed in comfortable jeans before she picked up her phone to call Logan Echolls. She wondered how in hell she was going to be able to explain to him that someone wanted Veronica dead.


	14. Part II - Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Ghostcat whose suggestions led to my solving my problem with the italics. Your help was very much appreciated.

Part II - Chapter 9

They spent the remainder of the afternoon in companionable silence. Logan pulled out his iPad and tried to relax with Angry Birds, but he was exhausted and eventually fell asleep on the bed. Keith was reading his second newspaper of the day and chuckling at the lack of stamina in young people nowadays, when he himself dropped off on the exceedingly comfortable couch that the St. Regis provided for its guests.

They were both startled awake by a loud ring, and groped for their phones, Logan finally unearthing his from where it had fallen behind the bedside table. He was sure it must be Veronica calling. But he was wrong.

"Logan, thank god!" came a panicked voice on the other end of the line. "It rang and rang and I was beginning to think you weren't going to answer and then I don't know what the hell I would have done and.."

"Evie?" he finally broke in on her rambling.

"Yes, yes, of course it's me. It's Evie. Yes." She stopped and took a breath.

He took advantage of her momentary silence to ask with concern, "What's wrong, Evie?" It was easy to tell by her breathless and rapid delivery that Evie Garcia was under great stress.

"I...can't talk about it over the phone, Logan. It has to be in person and it has to be tonight. I need to come see you. And I know what you're going to say," she rushed on before he could get another word in. "You're going to give me some bullshit about not going to a man's hotel room, but Logan, I promise you, this is important."

Logan sighed. "Have you eaten, Evie?" he asked. "Because I haven't and I'd really like to. And there's no problem with your coming here because I happen to have," he glanced over at Keith who was watching and listening to him from the bedroom doorway, "a friend staying with me at the moment."

Logan asked what she'd like to eat, but she told him she didn't care. He gave her the room number and made certain she was taking a taxi, then hung up.

"The Garcia girl?" Keith asked as soon as Logan had disconnected the call.

"Yeah," Logan answered, a puzzled expression on his face. "She sounded...I don't know any other other word to describe it but...frantic."

Keith nodded. "So I guess we're entertaining her for dinner."

"Looks that way," Logan said, picking up the room service menu. "What would you like, Keith?" he asked.

"Uh, would they have steak on that menu?" Keith answered.

Logan laughed. "Something tells me they might. As for me," he continued, "anything will do, as long as it's not lasagna. I've had enough lasagna in the last few days to last me a while."

"The perils of being in Veronica's orbit," Keith said, and they both laughed.

In the end, Logan ordered three steak dinners. He hadn't noted the other night that Evie had any dietary restrictions, self-imposed or otherwise, but if she didn't want the steak he'd just order her something else when she got there.

As they sat and waited, wondering which would arrive first, their dinner or their guest, Keith finally voiced what they'd both been thinking.

"I'm...a little surprised we haven't heard from Veronica," he said. "Not that anything she does is ever to anyone's schedule but her own," he added.

"You got that right," Logan agreed. "But I think maybe it's time we called her. It's almost eight and she should have had plenty of time to talk to Garcia by now."

But a knock at the door stopped him before he could dial her number. When Logan answered it, Evie Garcia threw herself at him with a force that nearly knocked him over. She was breathing rapidly, and if anything, she seemed even more panicked than she had earlier on the phone.

Logan tried to extricate himself from her tight grasp as he walked her into the room. The last thing he wanted was for Keith to get the wrong idea about Evie and himself.

"Here, why don't you sit down, Evie," Logan said, practically pushing her into one of the wing chairs that sat kitty-corner to the couch.

"I want to introduce you to someone," he began, motioning between Keith and Evie as he continued. "Evie, this is Keith Mars. Keith...Evie Garcia."

"Hello, Evie," Keith said, in the most non-threatening manner he could muster. He could see that she was already on the knife-edge of hysteria.

"Mars?" she repeated. "You...you're..." Her brow wrinkled.

"I'm Veronica's father," Keith answered her unfinished question.

"Her father. _Her father!_ Oh, thank god! There's two of you to help." Evie seemed fervent in her thanks.

"Evie," Logan said, as gently as he could. "Can you tell us what's got you so spooked?"

Evie frowned. "I don't know where to begin," she said.

"Would it be a cliché if I said 'at the beginning'?" Logan asked.

A sudden knock interrupted him, startling them all.

"That's room service with our dinner," he said. "Let me just get the door."

Evie seemed to relax slightly as she watched the cart being wheeled in and Logan take out a bill to tip the waiter.

When they were alone again, Logan left the food for the moment and returned to his place on the couch, nodding to Evie to continue.

"I think you're wrong, Logan," she stated.

"About what?" he asked.

"I think I have to start at the end so you'll...listen to the rest."

Logan nodded again. "Okay, then, Evie. What's the end?"

Evie looked at them both then, sure they weren't going to believe her, certain they were going to think she was crazy, and took a deep breath.

"Someone wants to...kill Veronica."

Logan and Keith looked at each other, and Logan immediately pulled out his phone, scrolling down to a by-now-familiar number. Veronica answered on the third ring.

Logan expelled the breath he'd been holding, but couldn't keep the worry-induced harshness out of his voice.

"Why haven't you called?" he demanded. "You've had plenty of time to...do what you needed to."

Logan was mindful that Evie was sitting there, and decided to exercise some discretion, although he recognized that it might become necessary to tell Evie what was going on.

On the other end of the line, Veronica was taken aback. It hadn't occurred her that they might worry, but she acknowledged to herself that it probably should have.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm at the office. I remembered something important that I forgot tell Len before I left today, so I'm leaving him an email on our secure server. But I'll be going home soon."

"No!" Logan said abruptly. "Come here instead. To the St. Regis."

"What! I don't think so, Logan. I'm sure I'll be..."

Knowing his daughter well, Keith grabbed the phone from Logan to interrupt what he knew would be her indignant protests.

"Veronica," he said. "You need to get yourself over here right now, honey. Something's come up. Evie Garcia is here, and I'd like you to hear what she has to say."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Fine, Dad," she agreed finally, hearing the anxiety in his voice. "I'll grab a cab and be there as soon as I can."

Keith gave her the room number and then hung up, handing the phone back to Logan.

Logan eyed the phone in his hand, thinking furiously. "Let's have dinner," he said. "I don't want you to have to tell your story twice, Evie, so it can wait until Veronica gets here.

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Veronica's knock came less than a half hour later. Logan practically ran to the door, and when he saw her standing there, his relief was so great that he had to exercise every bit of restraint within himself not to pull her into his arms.

She noted the tension as she came into the room, and eyed Evie curiously.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Evie, what's wrong?"

Veronica sat down in the second wing chair, and Logan nodded to Evie to continue with her story.

"Veronica," she said, turning towards her. "I'm...pretty sure you're in danger."

Veronica's only response was to narrow her eyes. She'd been in danger before.

"From whom?" she asked.

"That's just what I'm not sure of," Evie responded with a sigh. "Has my...father ever told you about his... _padrino_ ," she asked.

Veronica shook her head. "No, Evie, Matthew hasn't said anything to me, but I have...heard about the man."

"Logan told you about him, didn't he? I should have know there was a reason you asked me those questions the other day," she said, looking at Logan.

"Don't worry about that now," Logan said. "Just tell us what happened."

Evie sighed. "He was at the condo tonight. In fact, I let him in. He was in the elevator with his flunky - not the same one as before," she added, turning to Logan, "and when we got to the door, _Padrino_ just followed me inside. I assumed he had an appointment or something with Daddy. He asked to wait in Daddy's office. I...I wasn't sure what to do...but...it was _Padrino_."

She looked at them all, asking for their understanding. One did not ignore the wishes of _Padrino_.

"What time was that, Evie?" Veronica asked.

"I'm...not sure. It was after six. I think almost six-thirty. I don't know exactly," she said again, apologetically.

Veronica nodded. "Okay," she said. "Go on."

Evie took a deep breath. She was coming to the hard part.

"Later on...later on, I was in the hot tub. It's on the balcony right outside my room and I heard someone come out onto the other side of the balcony."

She turned to Logan and Keith, explaining.

"The balcony swings around two sides of the condo. If you're on one leg, you can't see who's on the other. So...I heard someone, which was...strange, because I'm the only one who ever uses the balcony. Daddy never goes out there."

She looked for confirmation to Veronica, who nodded and said, "That's true. Matthew doesn't like heights."

"So I listened," Evie continued, "and there was a voice, but only one, so I knew it was someone on the phone. He was speaking in Spanish, and my Spanish isn't great, although I can understand it better than speak it, you know?"

There were nods all around, as the three tried to contain their impatience with the pace of her storytelling.

Evie swallowed. "It was _Padrino_ , and he was telling...someone on the other end...that they were going to have to go with...I'm not sure, maybe the other idea or the other plan. Something like that. He said...he said Veronica had broken her engagement to Daddy."

Evie stopped and turned to Veronica. "Is that true?" she asked.

Veronica nodded once.

"Is it because of him," she looked at Logan, "because of Logan?"

"No, no!" Veronica said hastily. "Why would you think that? Wait, never mind, Evie," she added when the girl opened her mouth to answer. "Just please continue with your story."

"Okay. He... _Padrino_ called you...a bad name, Veronica. I don't know why. Then he said that if you couldn't help Daddy win the election as his _querida_ or his _mujer_ , then you could help him another way. Everybody would feel sorry for him when you were...dead."

Veronica gave a tiny gasp, but nodded to Evie to continue.

"He said it should...look like...an accident. And that it should happen at the ball."

Evie stopped and they were all silent for a moment.

"Are you sure that's what you heard, Evie? You couldn't have been mistaken?" Keith asked as calmly as he could.

Evie looked at him and recited slowly, as if from memory.

_"Veronica tiene que morir. ¿Se puede organizar un accidente en el baile?"_

Evie stopped and looked at the three of them. Veronica was white as a sheet. She knew just enough Spanish to understand that someone wanted her dead, and that the plan was that she would have some sort of accident at the ball.

"Veronica," Logan said urgently. "What did you tell Garcia about the ball?"

"I told him I'd go. I had a feeling it would be important to him and it was. So...I said I'd accompany him. Kind of a...farewell gift."

"Well, call him right now and tell him you've changed your mind. You can't make it. Whatever the fuck you need to say to him to make him understand you're not going anywhere near that place!"

Veronica said nothing, but Logan could see that she was thinking over what he'd said.

Finally she said, "I wish it were that simple, but I don't think that will help."

"Why the hell not?" Logan shouted, jumping up from the couch.

Veronica reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Sit down, Logan," she said, "and listen to me."

He closed his eyes in an effort to calm himself, and sat back down.

"All right," he said, "go ahead."

"The way that Evie has explained the conversation she overheard, it sounds very much like...Salazar...did some eavesdropping of his own. That he knows that I've broken it off with Matthew and for some reason that has infuriated him. It sounds like they had some...use...for me in Matthew's life, but now that I won't be _in_ Matthew's life, they've found another use for me."

Veronica looked at Logan and Keith. "Don't you see?" she said. "If they can't make it happen at the ball, then it will be some other time. The threat isn't going to just go away."

"Then we'll just expose Garcia for what he is," Logan stated emphatically. "Then there won't be any campaign, so there won't be any need to use you in any way, and you'll be safe."

"Will I, Logan?" she wondered, trying to reason with him. "Weren't you the one who told me just a few hours ago that we'd be crazy to get on the bad side of a Mexican drug cartel. Did you think they'd be sending us thank-you notes for exposing Matthew? That would put everyone in danger. You, Dad, even Evie. And certainly Matthew."

Veronica shook her head. "We have to find another way."

Evie spoke up suddenly. "Drug cartel?" she whispered. "And...and who is Salazar?"

The other three exchanged glances, wondering how much to tell Evie.

"I'm not a child," she said vehemently. "If there's something going on with my father, something I don't know about, then you need to tell me."

Keith had only known Evie for an hour, but he'd had a lifetime of experience in delivering bad news. And he thought it best to tell her the rest.

"Evie," he said, "this will probably be difficult to hear, so are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I'm sure."

"Okay," Keith nodded in return. "As long as you understand that everything I'm going to tell you, you have to keep to yourself. You can't discuss it with anyone, not even your father. Most especially not your father. If he had any idea you knew about this, it could put not only all of us in danger, but him, too. Do you understand?"

Once again, she nodded.

"The man you know as _Padrino_ is actually Vicente Salazar, a high-level member of a Mexican drug cartel. The money for your father's education, hundreds of thousands of dollars, didn't come from church scholarships, or any kind of scholarships. It came from the cartel. They used the church to funnel the funds to your father."

"Oh, god," she said softly, trying to take it all in. "And what...what does he do for the cartel for them to...give him all this money?" she asked fearfully.

"That's just it, Evie, until this point he's done nothing, as far as we can tell. But now they've asked him to run for Attorney General, and you can imagine why. They want someone in that position who's in their pocket. This is the chance they've been waiting for."

He looked over at his daughter.

"Apparently Veronica had a certain part she was supposed to play to make sure he won the election, but when she broke her engagement to your father, she went off script. So it sounds like they're going with an amended script instead."

"I can't believe it," Evie said. "I mean, I do believe you. After what I heard, why wouldn't I? My...father and I have never really been close, but still," she looked Keith in the eye, "a drug cartel?"

"He must have been very young when it all started, Evie. They took advantage of his youth, and now he's caught in a trap."

"But isn't there some way we can help him, some way he can get out of this...?" Evie started to ask.

"That's it," Veronica said suddenly. "He has to get _caught_. But not by me and not for his involvement with the cartel. We’re not about to bring down the cartel and I don't want any of us to get any closer to them than we already are. And Matthew doesn't need us putting him in more danger than he's already in, either."

"Then how do we do this?" Logan wanted to know. "I really don't give a damn about Garcia's safety, Veronica. Only yours."

"He has to be caught in a compromising situation, and it has to be public." Veronica could see it coming together in her head. "They wanted to use the ball, so I think we should use the ball, too. We need something to happen that will force him to withdraw from the race, something that has nothing to do with...me."

"Veronica, even if we could think of something like that, it's still too dangerous for you to be there. Someone is trying to kill you, Even if I'm at the ball, I can't watch you every second. Who knows how many people will be there, trying to make sure that Veronica has an 'accident'?" Logan's agitation was increasing rapidly.

"Logan, I know you're worried about me, but think. If I don't show up, Matthew might not either, and we lose our opportunity for a large audience of powerful people to witness his disgrace. And besides, I'd rather try to avoid something on that night when I know it's coming, than be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. No," Veronica was adamant, "everything has to go down at the ball."

"I can have ten ex-cops around that place with one call," Keith said, picking up his phone.

"No, Dad," she said, turning to her father. "We can't have people obviously guarding me. That would be like a huge flashing neon sign that says 'We know what's going on. We know Veronica is in danger.' We might as well take out an ad in the _Chronicle_. They'll know that we know about Matthew, about the money, about his connection to the cartel."

Veronica shook her head. "So no ex-cops hanging around. Sorry, Dad."

"Too bad all those cops aren't your friends," Evie said. "Then they could just hang out with you."

Logan jumped up suddenly. "That's it," he said. "Evie, I could kiss you! But I won't," he added hastily.

"Logan, what kind of scheme are you dreaming up now?" Veronica asked warily, noting the glint in his eye.

"We don't need the ex-cops," he told Veronica, feeling more and more confident about his plan. "We can have our own guards, but they won't look like they're guarding you. They'll just look like they're partying with you."

"I don't understand," Keith said.

Logan began to explain to them. "We know they're not sending someone to shoot Veronica or, I don't know, hit her over the head with something. It's supposed to look like an accident, but that still means that they'll have to isolate her somehow, separate her from her party."

He grinned, thinking about the beauty of his plan. "If her party is only a party of four, then that might not be too difficult. But what if it's a party of a dozen? And no matter what, at least three or four of them will be with her at all times?"

"And where are we going to get a dozen random people to try to protect me? What are we going to tell these people? What am I going to tell Matthew, for that matter? How will I explain them to him?"

"And that's the best part. We tell them the truth, because they won't be random. And it will be easy to explain to Matthew, because they'll be your friends, your oldest friends, many of whom you haven't seen in a long time. I've just decided to have an impromptu reunion of sorts, and I'm inviting them all to the ball." Logan stood smirking triumphantly, hands on hips, waiting for her to congratulate him on his brilliant plan.

Veronica gaped when she heard what he was proposing. She was right in his face suddenly, but she wasn't offering congratulations. "You can't just _buy_ tickets to this ball for a dozen people. That would be...well, it would be ridiculously expensive. Do you have any idea how much one of those tickets costs? I...I won't let you do it!"

Logan looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Cost? You're asking me about the _cost_. Are you crazy, Veronica? You know how much money I have. Why would I give a flying fuck about the _cost_ of anything? Especially when it comes to your safety."

Logan's fists were clenching with the effort not to pick up the nearest object and smash it against the wall.

"You know what?" he said. "You still think you're fucking invincible." Logan turned on his heel and in a few long strides he was in the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

"Dad..." Veronica looked at her father, but she found no support there.

Keith shook his head. "He's right, Veronica, and what's more, you know it."

Evie sat there with a stunned look on her face. Veronica, always the epitome of calm and poise, had just put on a virtuoso display of temper. And as for the sophisticated Logan Echolls? He'd given it right back. Evie was enthralled.

"You two sound like an old married couple," she observed.

Veronica suddenly felt the red tide of a blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, my god!" Evie exclaimed, as her deductive faculties finally caught up with her observations. "You two were married? That explains so much!" she said, a lot of things suddenly becoming clear.

"It's a...long story," Veronica began.

"Well, that story isn't going to get any longer, Veronica, if you die," Evie said, in as bald-faced a piece of advice as Veronica had ever heard. "Logan's right. Why would he care how much money he has to spend to keep you safe? I think you're nuts," Evie told her dismissively.

Veronica stood in the middle of the room, thinking about all the stupid things she'd said to Logan that day. What the hell was it about him that made her normally rational self scream like a shrew every time he wanted to help her, or care for her, or, god help him, protect her?

Veronica squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and marched to the bedroom door. She knocked, but didn't wait for a response before she walked in. The only light in the room filtered in through the partially opened blinds, and it was just enough to see that Logan was sitting on the far side of the bed with his back to the door, silent and still.

"Logan," she said, before she could think better of it. "I'm...sorry. It's just...here you are, having to take care of me again. I...it makes me feel so...helpless. So stupid that I can't take care of myself. And I reacted...badly."

She watched as Logan's shoulders started to shake. Oh, god, she thought, have I upset him that much? Veronica rushed around the foot of the bed and stopped short on the other side. Logan was laughing so hard that he was shaking with it. Veronica grinned suddenly, and plopped down next to him.

"My god, I've missed you, Veronica," Logan said when he could speak again. "Nobody, and I mean nobody, makes me as crazy as you do." He picked up her hand and ran his thumb along the back of it. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. It was...childish."

She shrugged. "Maybe we were both being a little childish," she admitted.

He looked her in the eye, then, without letting go of her hand. "I know you're scared, Veronica. Who the hell wouldn't be, and I know you hate being dependent on me or anyone else, but..."

Veronica placed two fingers over his lips, while her other hand remained lightly clasped in his.

"No," she said softly. "Don't apologize. Your plan...it's a good plan." She smiled. "Always assuming, of course, that our friends will want to help."

"They will, Veronica, I know it," he whispered, grabbing her fingers and kissing them lightly.

Veronica felt her fingers stroke across his lips and along his cheek, and then smooth over his brow, almost of their own accord. Had she meant to touch him like that? She wasn't sure. But when she saw his eyes darken and heard him take a shallow little breath, when she felt the answering tug in her own body, she knew it was time to move away before she did other things she wasn't sure she meant to do.

"Wait, don't go," he said, smiling softly when she stood up. He still held onto one of her hands.

"Come on," she said, pulling him off the bed. "We have people to call and plans to make."

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There were a few issues that needed to be dealt with, some more immediate than others. The first was what to do about Evie.

"Maybe you should just pack up and go back to London," Logan said to her. "Stay with your mom."

"Well, since she sent me home as a punishment, I'm not sure she'd be too agreeable. Besides, what about the ball? I'm not missing that!"

"Evie..." Logan began.

"No!" she said. "I want to be part of it. I want to make sure that Veronica stays...safe. And besides, how do I explain to Daddy that you backed out of our date the same day you invited me? It might seem...odd or something."

"She's right about that, Logan," Keith said. "Better not to make any changes to your plans that would put Garcia on alert. If you break your date with Evie right after Veronica broke their engagement, he might get suspicious."

"That's right," Evie agreed, "Daddy is completely clueless about the two of you and I think your plans will work better if he stays that way." She folded her arms across her chest as if to say that ended the matter.

"Okay," Logan nodded, capitulating. "But is there anywhere else you can stay between now and Saturday? Anywhere that won't make him suspicious?"

Evie thought a moment. "I guess I can stay at Melissa's. I can just say that Daddy is making me crazy. Which," she sighed, "is certainly true. I'll call her tomorrow after he goes to work."

Logan nodded his head. "But, Evie, you can't tell Melissa anything about this. Not even that Veronica broke the engagement. Not a word or hint." He looked at her directly. "Do you understand?"

Evie's face was as sober as Veronica had ever seen it, all traces of her perpetual smirk completely gone.

"Look, both of you," she looked at them carefully. "I know I act like a kid most of the time, but, believe me, I understand. And I don't want anything bad to happen to...my dad."

"Your dad's not likely to get out of this scott free, Evie," Logan reminded her gently. "If he can't run for office, the cartel's going to find another use for him."

"I figured that," she said, nodding, "but I don't want him to get hurt. Or worse."

"I don't, either," Veronica assured her.

"Come on, Evie," Keith said, rising. "Let's go downstairs and find you a taxi. And when you get to your friend's house tomorrow, why don't you give me a call?" He gave her his number.

Evie hugged him impulsively. "Veronica's really lucky," she said.

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By the time Keith returned to the room, Veronica and Logan had a plan of sorts in the works.

"I called the same woman I spoke to earlier about getting more tickets to the ball. When she heard how many I wanted to buy, she practically wept. Apparently, it's been slow going this year. She not only sold me more tickets, she reserved us a separate table."

"How many tickets did you buy, Logan?" Keith asked.

"Ten. I bought ten."

"That many?"

"We might not need them all, but then again..."

"Okay," Keith said, "what's next?"

"We've been trying to figure out how to arrange to have Matthew found in a compromising situation, and I'm pretty sure we're going to have to get a little..creative," Veronica said.

"How creative?" Keith asked warily.

"Well, I was wondering, Dad. Do you know if Cliff is still in touch with Loretta Cancun?"

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Everyone had their assignments and by the following day, they were putting the pieces of their plan into play. Keith and Logan had already decided, over Veronica's token objections, that they weren't leaving her alone for a second. Since Logan could hardly move in with her, Keith went back with Veronica to her apartment and took up his customary place on her couch.

Keith would also be accompanying her to and from work, and anywhere else she had to go. Veronica had so much leave accrued that when she asked for Friday off to 'get ready' for the ball, she had no trouble getting Len Rosetti to agree.

Despite some misgivings, Keith asked Cliff about the whereabouts of Loretta Cancun, and was pleasantly surprised to hear that she was still in Neptune. He told Cliff that Logan would be in touch soon with a proposition for her.

It would be Logan's job to take care of rounding up most of Veronica's protection posse. He decided he might as well begin with Mac while they were still in the same city, because this intelligence was going to require a face to face conversation.

Mac was surprised to hear her doorbell ring at seven on Wednesday morning before she'd even gotten out of bed. She was even more surprised, when she finally managed to drag herself to the door, to find Logan standing there holding her favorite soy latte.

"Rise and shine, Mac," he said, handing her the brew.

"Logan, what the hell?" she said, taking the paper cup and bringing it to her lips for a much-needed jolt of caffeine.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Mac eyed him warily, moving aside so he could enter the room.

"Why are you still in San Francisco, Logan? I'd have thought you'd be back in Neptune by now. You know," she continued, "you can't stalk Veronica into changing her mind about you." Her tone softened. "Much as I might want you to."

Logan sat at the little table in the dining alcove and motioned for Mac to join him.

"I think there may be a few developments I need to catch you up on," he said.

By the time he'd finished explaining about Matthew Garcia's relationship with the drug cartel, Mac was gaping and the soy latte was gone.

"So _that's_ why Keith called me the other night." She'd made the leap intuitively. "And those pictures you had. They're what started the whole thing, aren't they?"

"Mac, we never would have found out about any of this without your help. Veronica owes you big time."

Mac shook her head. "Veronica doesn't owe me. That's not how this works. We're friends. But that bastard!" she continued. "I presume she didn't waste any time breaking up with him."

"Nope," he said. "But there are a few additional complications, and that's kind of why I'm here."

"Oh," she asked, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement, "like what?"

Logan wondered where to begin, and finally decided that maybe Evie had had the right idea. So he began at the end.

"Mac," he said, "how would you like to go to a ball?"

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After he'd explained it all to her, it was easy to get Mac on board. She said she'd be damned if she'd let anything happen to Veronica. But Mac was still a woman and eventually she voiced more mundane concerns, like how she could find a dress to wear and where she might get a last-minute escort. Logan admitted he couldn't help her with the dress, but said he'd take care of her escort.

"Logan..." she began, a gleam of suspicion in her eye, but he interrupted her.

"Mac," he said, "this isn't information that we can divulge to just any random guy that you might happen to decide to invite as your date. Although," he added with a smile, "I'm sure you'd have no trouble finding one. But...not this time, okay? This time, it has to be people who love Veronica...and people who love those people."

He laughed. "Did that make any sense?"

"It did," Mac said, her mouth twisting in a wry smile, "but I can't help thinking I know where this is going."

Logan smiled in return. "Do you mind?" he asked. "Because I know _he_ won't."

"It's fine," she said, "but I have a huge project due tomorrow, so I need to throw you out so I can get to work."

"Thanks, Mac," he said, kissing her on the cheek and seeing himself out.

Logan left Mac's with barely enough time to catch the 9am shuttle to San Diego. From there, he drove to Neptune, and made it to the beach house in time for lunch.

He had a jam-packed day planned and not much time to get it all done. His first call was to Cliff McCormack.

"Logan," Cliff said. "I suspected from the call I got from Keith that things did not go exactly as expected in San Francisco."

"You could say that, Cliff," he said, "but I can't say I'm really unhappy about it."

"Yes, I would imagine," he said. "Keith also mentioned that you might have some short-term employment for my old friend, Loretta Cancun. She's, uh, pretty much given up her old line of work, kid. Just so you know. Not that she couldn't, uh, still. Woman looks damn good."

Logan laughed. "That's okay, Cliff. I haven't gone into pimping yet. Veronica said that Miss Cancun had some, uh, theatrical talents, as well. Those are what I hoped to hire."

"I see," he said. "I can set up a meeting for today, if you'd like."

"I'd like. And Cliff, when you're talking to Loretta, please tell her that besides her...um...fee, if she agrees to do this, she'll get a trip to San Francisco, and a stay at the St. Regis. I'll also pay for a designer gown, which she gets to keep once the show's over."

"Those are substantial fringe benefits, kid," Cliff said, "and I won't fail to mention them. I'll call you back."

Logan's next call was to Dick, who was predictably garrulous.

"Dude! I've been wondering when I'd hear from you again. What the hell's going on with Ronnie? She okay? How come you never answered any of my calls? You coulda been sick or dying and I never woulda even..."

"Dick!" Logan finally broke in, because sometimes waiting for Dick to pause for a breath called for more patience than he possessed.

"Yo!" Dick stopped. "What?"

"I need a couple of favors from you," Logan finally said when given the chance.

"You already got 'em, bro. Whaddya need?"

"Well, the first thing is, do you know anyone in the Bay Area who would have access to some weed?"

"Yeah, sure," Dick said. "You remember Milo from the _Surf's Up_ in Pacifica. He's sometimes been known to smoke a joint or two."

"Good," Logan knew he'd asked the right person. "Can you get in touch with him and see if he can get me some for this weekend?"

Dick paused. "I didn't think you did that shit," he said finally, "but, yeah, I can hook you up, no problem."

"It's not for me, you idiot!" Logan replied.

This time the pause was even longer.

"Logan," he said. "We don't give that stuff to other people, remember? You're the one who made me see that wasn't...right. And besides, if it's for Ronnie, I still remember the way she looks at you. She doesn't need any kinda chemical help to want to jump your bones."

"Dick! Dude! Get your mind out of my bedroom! Look, I'll explain everything tonight."

"Tonight? What's tonight?"

"Yeah, that's my second favor. I need you to come over here tonight. You can come earlier if you want, as long as you're here by seven. And don't make any plans for this weekend, either."

"Hey, Dude, can't you count? That's three favors, not two." Dick chuckled at his own joke.

"Bye, Dick. Don't forget. Seven o'clock."

Logan timed his next call to coincide with Wallace's lunch period.

"Hey, where you been?" were the first words out of Wallace's mouth. "Or you screenin' your calls now and I'm not makin' the cut? I even dropped by last night but no luck. So what's goin' on?"

"Sorry I couldn't take your calls, man. I wish I had time to explain it now, but I don't. If you can come to a little...meeting at my house tonight, I promise I'll tell you everything."

"A meeting? Does this have somethin' to do with the business?"

"No. It has to do with...Veronica." Logan just let that statement lay.

There was a long pause and Logan imagined Wallace struggling with how much he wanted to say aloud while sitting in the Neptune High courtyard.

"What time, man? For the meetin'?" was all he finally said.

"About seven. Can you..?" Logan never finished his sentence.

"Lunch hour's up, Logan. I'll see you tonight." He hung up the phone before Logan had a chance to say another word.

Logan decided to turn his last call into a personal visit and drove to Navarro Auto Repair in downtown Neptune. Weevil's head was under the hood of an expensive SUV when Logan walked into the garage.

"Hey, vato," he said. "Is there something interesting under the hood of that car, or are you taking a nap?"

Weevil's head came up so fast he just missed hitting it on the edge of the hood.

"You asshole," said, when he saw Logan. "I tried callin' you at least a dozen times since Saturday, and you never called me back. I thought you were gonna let me know what you found out."

"Yeah, well I've been kind of busy, Weevs. But I'm here now." He paused. "Thing is, I need a favor from you, but it's...complicated. So, uh, do you think you can drop by my place around seven tonight. I'd rather tell all of you at once."

"All of who?"

"Wallace and Dick."

"So, that's the favor? Come to your house tonight?"

"Uh, no...it's more like I need you to do something for me this weekend, you and Marisol."

"This weekend? I don't know, Logan. We ain't left Lucinda yet. I don't know if Marisol will go for it."

Logan sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "But just come and let me explain and then you can decide."

"Yeah, fine." Weevil nodded. "So, Logan, does this have something to do with V?"

"It doesn't just have something to do with Veronica, Weevs," Logan stated grimly. "It has everything to do with her."

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Cliff had arranged for Logan to meet with Loretta Cancun at a greasy spoon that was located on the outskirts of Neptune along the Pacific Coast Highway. Logan had never met her, but he thought the woman who signaled him from the back booth as soon as he walked in the door looked more like the president of the PTA than one of Cliff's skeezy clients.

"Hi," he said, sitting down across from her and offering his hand. "I'm Logan. Can I get you anything?"

Loretta shook his hand and indicated the cup of coffee in front of her. "I'm good with this," she said, "but you go ahead."

The waitress came and he ordered a coffee, too.

"Did Cliff fill you in on what I want you to do?" he asked.

Loretta shrugged. "He said a friend of yours was in some trouble and that you needed someone who could be convincing in a little con you were going to run. That about right?" she asked.

When he nodded, she continued. "He also mentioned some, uh, bonuses that sounded intriguing - a trip, high-class hotel, designer clothes. What he didn't mention was how much you were paying for the job itself."

Logan nodded. "That's because I didn't tell him. But here's what I had in mind. The trip, the accommodations, the dress, plus $5,000."

"Five thousand dollars!" She was practically speechless.

"That's right," he nodded. "Plus another $5,000 after it's over, provided everything goes exactly to plan, and that nothing, and by that I mean _nothing at all_ , can connect either you or your little performance to Neptune, or to me...or to my friend."

"Friend, huh?" she said, her eyes twinkling a little. "Well, Cliff said you were a little eccentric, but you're the first person I ever met who was willing to lay out more than 10 Gs to help a friend."

Loretta brought the last of her coffee to her lips and then asked for a refill when the waitress appeared with Logan's cup.

"So tell me about this plan of yours," she said, smiling.

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By the time he'd gone over the plan with Loretta several times, it was late afternoon. To avoid any traceable link between them, Logan provided her with enough cash to cover half her 'fee', plus all her expenses. For the same reason, he'd also purchased two prepaid phones. One of these he gave to Loretta, and the other he kept himself so that she could call him with updates, or report any problems.

By the time every detail had been nailed down to his satisfaction and he and Loretta had parted ways, Logan knew he'd have to congratulate Veronica. Loretta Cancun was a quick study and had been an inspired choice for their little sting.

He stopped to buy beer and snacks on the way home, then sat on his couch eating pretzels and wondering whether he and Loretta had covered every possible contingency. Dick arrived shortly after six and was a little put out when Logan wouldn't tell him about the weekend plans.

"Gotta wait for the others," Logan said, handing him a brew.

Before Dick could even ask _what others_ , Logan was suggesting a rematch on the game console that was still out from the previous Sunday. Wallace and Weevil arrived within a few minutes of each other shortly after seven. Weevil apologized for being late and blamed the baby.

"Princess Lucinda spit up all over me," he said with a grin. "Had to change my shirt."

"Dude!" Dick said. "Gross! That's why I'm never having kids."

"And with that announcement, there's hope for mankind," Logan said, and they all laughed, even Dick.

"So, what's up, man?" Wallace asked, as they settled into comfortable seats in Logan's living room. "I almost spit out my soda right in the middle of the courtyard when you said this meeting had something to do with Veronica. Since when have you seen Veronica?"

Wallace looked at the other two, who didn't seem as surprised. "You both knew about this?" He asked them.

"I know a little, but not enough," Weevil said, his impatience showing. "Get the fuck on with it, Logan!"

"Okay," he said, handing around beers and putting bowls of snacks on the coffee table.

He took a deep breath before he said, "The first thing that you all need to know is that about six years ago...Veronica and I got married."

Logan sat back and waited for the inevitable reaction, which wasn't long in coming.

"Dude! I knew something funky had gone down while I was partying my way through Europe," Dick said excitedly, as though he'd just figured out the correct answer to Final Jeopardy.

"How the hell could that have happened and me not know about it?" Wallace complained.

Weevil just nodded and waited for the next part. He and Logan hadn't been in each others' lives six years ago.

Logan took a swig of his beer. "That's right, Dick, you were living it up on step-dad number five's dime, and Wallace, you were in Chicago."

"So sometime after that, Blondie got smart and dumped your ass?" Weevil finally asked. "Is that what happened?"

"Something like that," Logan said, although they could all see that there were probably a lot of things he was leaving out.

"At the end..." he looked away for a moment, cleared his throat, "at the end, we just kept it simple. Cliff drew up a divorce agreement and we both signed it."

Logan sighed and told them candidly. "In case any of you might think different, I'll tell you right now that it was not the happiest day of my life."

No one said anything. Not even Dick.

He smiled wryly. "But strangely, the story doesn't end there. Something happened, no one seems to know exactly what, not even Cliff, but the divorce agreement never made it to the courthouse, was never recorded. Which means..."

"You and Veronica are still married," a dumbfounded Wallace finished for him.

"Yep," Logan agreed, "that we are."

"So is that why you were on the phone with Keith Mars?" Dick asked.

"And what about that picture of Chardo?" Weevil wanted to know. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"A picture of...Chardo Navarro? And why is Keith involved? Guess I'm the only one who knew nothin' at all about this shit." Wallace was clearly not happy at being left in the dark.

"Well, if you assholes would stop asking questions and give me about five minutes of your attention, _uninterrupted_ , I could finish this story."

"Okay, go ahead," Wallace agreed, still in shock, while the others just nodded.

"So here's the condensed version. When I realized that we were still married, I decided...I wanted to tell Veronica myself. I knew she was living in San Francisco, working for the DA's office, but what I didn't know, and what Cliff had to tell me, was that she'd just recently become engaged to a San Francisco lawyer named Matthew Garcia."

He took another swig of his beer. "Not the best news I'd ever had, but I figured I'd have to deal with it. When I got to San Francisco, I met Garcia and I didn't like him, but that was no surprise. I didn't really think we're gonna become BFFs."

Logan paused to focus on them intently, silently directing them to pay close attention to his next words.

"But what I didn't expect," he said deliberately, "was to find out that Garcia was connected to a Mexican drug cartel."

For a moment, there was dead silence.

 _"What!"_ said a disbelieving Wallace, the only one of them who had known about Veronica's engagement. "That can't be right! You must have gotten the wrong guy, Logan."

Logan gave Wallace a half-smile. "Yeah, I figured you probably knew about Garcia, Wallace. Not holding it against you."

Wallace looked pained. "You know how it is, man. I don't talk to you about her and I don't talk to her about you. It's the only way it can work."

Logan nodded. "Yeah, I know. But today that's all gonna change. I know it's hard to believe, Wallace, but Garcia is not what anyone thought he was. And he never has been."

Now that he had their undivided attention, Logan explained about the Garcias, father and daughter, about his lunch with Evie, his impulsive photography, and about Weevil recognizing his cousin, Chardo. He talked about Keith's visit to the SDPD and the identification of Chardo's companion as cartel VIP Vicente Salazar. And then the final connection provided by Evie Garcia that Salazar was her father's mentor.

"Keith used one of his contacts to confirm that Garcia's so-called church scholarships were actually payments from the cartel. Mac helped us find the old priest from his church," he added.

"Mac knows about this?" Dick asked in surprise.

"She does now. I stopped in to see her this morning before I left San Francisco." He paused. "And while we're talking about Mac, I should probably tell you all that she knew about...the marriage...all along. There was a good reason for that...but I'm not going to go into it now."

They sat in silence and digested that piece of news.

"V don't seem to be havin' a lotta luck with men." Weevil said finally, shaking his head.

"Hell, that really sucks for Veronica," Wallace said. "I hope she kicked that asshole to the curb."

"Yeah, she gave Garcia the boot, but if that was all there was to it, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Logan saw the confusion on their faces and sighed, knowing he was coming to the hardest part.

"Okay, so this is where it gets more complicated," he said, launching into the rest of the story.

When he finished, they sat with their mouths open, their faces reflecting their disbelief that this could be happening to someone they knew, someone they cared about.

"Well, what the _fuck_ are we gonna do about this?" Weevil finally asked, angrily.

"We - Veronica and I - have a plan," Logan answered immediately, "but it requires your help. We need you to come to the ball in San Francisco this weekend and form a...a kind of protective circle around Veronica. I've already bought tickets for all of you...and your wives...girlfriends," he nodded at Wallace.

"And also," Logan continued, "we've got something else in the works. Something that will make sure that Garcia couldn't get elected to pick up dog shit."

Logan went on to explain their scheme for ensuring that Matthew Garcia would be thoroughly disgraced, and in a manner that would have no connection whatsoever with Veronica.

"So, a two-part plan. Think of it as," he smirked a little at this, "an undercover operation."

"Count me and Marisol in, man." Weevil said, clenching his fists and nodding in agreement. "Guess _abuela_ is gonna get her wish to take care of the baby sooner than she thought."

But he was still concerned. "Are you sure this is gonna be enough, Logan? To keep V safe, I mean? I got some buddies could maybe help."

"Believe me, Weevs, Keith and Veronica and I went over and over this. It's important that the cartel doesn't find out that she - or any of us - knows anything about them. So it can't be obvious that anyone is watching over her. You'll just be coming to an impromptu little reunion of Veronica's old friends."

Wallace nodded his agreement. "We're in, too, man. I'll explain it all to Emily, but I know she'll want to help." He paused suddenly, looking thoughtful. "Keith'll be at the ball, too, right?"

"I don't think anything could keep him away," Logan said.

"Does he, uh, have a date?" Wallace asked. "I mean, won't it seem strange if he comes alone?"

Logan nodded. "I suppose it could. What have you got in mind?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I could get my mom to help. She loves Veronica, although they haven't seen each other in a while. And she's...my mom is...well, she's good at keeping everything together. Know what I mean? If things got squirrelly, Mom would be a good person to have around. And...she and Keith are...old friends."

Logan nodded, picked up his phone, and pressed a number, waited for the line to be picked up.

"Keith," he said. "You got somebody in mind to bring to this ball? Yeah, I mean as a date. That's okay, never mind, I've got a date for you."

They could hear Keith protesting as Logan held the phone out from his ear.

"You done?" Logan asked, not waiting for an answer, as the other men grinned at his high-handed tactics with the intimidating Keith Mars.

"Who? Well, how about Alicia Fennel? I have it on good authority that she'd like to help."

There was silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a quick comment. Logan grinned. "Bye, Keith," he said, hanging up.

"I'll talk to her tonight," Wallace said, "but I know her. She'll be so pissed, she'll want to be a part of it."

"So what about you, Dick?" Logan asked, turning to his oldest friend.

"Dude! I told you before. Anything you need, I'm there. A big fancy ball? It's a little late, but I can get a date, no sweat," he said confidently.

"No need, Dick," Logan told him mildly. "I've already got you a date..."

"Hey, bro, I don't need you to find me dates..." Dick began, annoyed.

"...with Mac." Logan finished.

Dick stopped speaking, swallowed. "Mac's gonna go to the ball with me? Really?" he asked, as though he were having a hard time believing it.

"Yup," Logan confirmed. "We really have to keep this whole thing...in the family. I won't trust Veronica's safety to just anyone."

"So I guess we should make some reservations," Wallace said, taking out his phone. "I hope it's not too late..."

Logan grabbed Wallace's phone. "All taken care of, man. You leave on the 9am shuttle from San Diego on Saturday morning, and I've booked everyone rooms at the St. Regis."

"The St. Regis? Geez, Logan, not my usual Motel 6," Wallace said, smiling. "I'll pay you back out of my next dividend check."

"NO, you won't!" Logan glared at him. "This is all on my dime. Do you think I give a fuck how much money I spend as long as it keeps Veronica safe?"

"No, man, he doesn't," Weevil said, clapping Logan on the shoulder, "and neither do we."

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When her phone rang at 10 o'clock that night, Veronica knew without even looking that it was Logan. She knew he'd met with "the boys" that night to ask for their help. She and Logan had both decided that it would be difficult to explain the situation to their friends without also disclosing their brief marriage, so she'd agreed to let Logan fill them in on that, too. Veronica had made him promise that he would let her know how it all went down.

"Hey," she said, tucking the phone under her head as she lay warm and comfortable beneath the covers.

"Hey, yourself," he responded, noting the drowsiness in her voice. "Did I wake you?"

"Nope, I was just lying here waiting to find out how what they said." Veronica yawned hugely,

Logan laughed, a warm, comforting sound that melted her insides. It felt almost intimate, she thought, as she lay in her bed with his soft voice in her ear.

"I think from the sound of that yawn I should probably give you the short version. I told them everything..."

She interrupted hesitantly. "Not..."

"No," he said quickly, softly, "not that. But they know about the marriage, that legally we're...still married."

Veronica smirked. "I can imagine what they had to say about that!"

"Yeah, you probably can," he said, chuckling, "but they're all on board with the plan and they'll be here on Saturday."

"Good. I'll be really glad to see all of them." She laughed. "Even Dick."

"So did Keith tell you about his date for the ball?" Logan asked.

"His _what?!_ When did that happen?"

"Tonight. Wallace volunteered his mom, and Keith agreed."

Veronica sighed. "You know," she said happily, "if it weren't for the fact that my date is a mobster and someone's trying to kill me, I might actually be looking forward to this bash."

"Yeah," he said, "me, too. But right now, I think you should go to sleep. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

"Mm hmmm," she said sleepily. "But do you think you could just talk to me for a little while? Just until I fall asleep?"

Logan sat on his own bed and pictured Veronica tucked into hers, all warm and drowsy, and asking him to put her to sleep with his voice. His body reacted urgently, and the longing in his heart felt as familiar as ever. _Veronica Mars_ , he thought, _you'll kill me yet._


	15. Part II - Chapter 10

Part II - Chapter 10

Within a very few minutes, Logan heard the soft, even breaths that told him that she'd fallen asleep. He ended the call and lay back on his bed, but his mind was still filled with Veronica and he found that sleep was elusive. She'd been back in his life for less than a week, but he knew that he was just as thoroughly beguiled by her as he'd ever been. He'd been a fool to think it could be otherwise.

As he lay there, Logan made a conscious effort not to dwell on the current danger to Veronica, but to focus instead on the fact that thanks to Evie, they'd been given some warning. They'd made a plan and that plan was going to work, because he refused to accept any other outcome. He shifted his body, trying to find a more comfortable position, and forced his mind back to earlier times, happier times.

Like the first time he'd kissed Veronica. He smirked a little, thinking about all the girls he'd already kissed by then. He'd never been shy about it. He'd loved girls, loved kissing girls. But those kisses had always been anticipated, even expected. He was on a date, or at a party, or at least in the middle of a flirtation.

But the kiss that he couldn't have predicted ten seconds before it happened, that sudden intense intimacy on the dirty balcony of a rundown motel, that's the one that had changed him forever. That's the moment after which he'd unconsciously divided the events of his life between BV and AV: Before Veronica and After Veronica.

Although there'd never been a time when he hadn't been attracted to her. His lips curved as he remembered Lilly's long-ago question, "What did you think of Veronica the first time you saw her?". And his own adolescent response, "I thought she was hot." Stupid kid. As though "hot" were the be-all and end-all of attraction. But he hadn't understood that then, didn't find out for almost two more years that someone could get so deep inside you that it was like you became a part of each other.

And it had been as simple and as complicated as that. One kiss and she owned him. One impulsive pull into his arms of the last girl he ever expected to find there, and everything was suddenly changed. It was as if all the pieces of his life had blown apart and then reconnected into a new pattern. In which everything seemed to fit together just a little bit better. In which everything made just a little more sense.

And the certainty he had felt afterwards that he was meant to have Veronica Mars in his life, that feeling had never, ever gone away. He'd lied to himself on occasion over the years, rejected the idea that he could be so completely devoted to one woman, but that hadn't made it any less true.

Logan sighed and turned over, asking himself the same question he'd been asking since he was 17 years old. Was there any possible way that this time he'd get to keep her?

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Logan was tired after a restless night, but was still up early, determined to tie up any loose ends and be on his way. He was eager to get back to San Francisco, eager to get back to Veronica.

He'd retained his room at the St. Regis throughout the week, and some of his belongings were there still. But he wasn't sure how long he'd be away, so he dragged out a larger suitcase from the very back of his closet and began to fill it with whatever he thought he might need while he remained in San Francisco.

He went in search of his tux, the only one he had, finding it in a garment bag at the end of a row of business suits that he hardly ever wore. As he unzipped the bag, Logan tried to remember the last time he'd worn the tux. To a formal dinner at Hearst, he was pretty sure. It was early on in senior year, and the only reason he'd been there at all was to escort Veronica, who'd won some kind of academic honor.

He smiled to himself, noting that Veronica was once again the reason for his digging out his formal attire.

It had been tailored to him, so he almost dismissed the need for a try-on, but he finally decided that this was an operation in which he wanted every detail nailed down tight. By the time he'd zipped and buttoned himself into the tux, he was glad he'd taken the time. Because even though his clothing size hadn't changed and his weight hadn't changed, it seemed that his body had somehow morphed into a slightly different Logan Echolls. Apparently, he was broader in the shoulders and narrower in the waist. He was flummoxed. The tux fit, he supposed, it just didn't fit well. And he would be damned if he was going to that ball in ill-fitting evening wear.

He pulled out his phone and pressed her number without a second thought.

"Veronica," he said, when she came on the line, "There's a problem."

"Oh, no." She was immediately apprehensive. "Are they all backing out? I _knew_ we shouldn't have asked them to do this! It's way too dangerous. Or is it Loretta? Cliff said she was reliable, but..."

"Veronica, no," he said, his voice reflecting his distress. "It's none of those things. It's my tux."

There was a pause.

"Your...tux?"

"Yeah. It doesn't seem to fit. I can't understand it, because my size hasn't changed, everything's pretty much the same but..."

Logan's litany of complaints was stopped cold by the peal of laughter that reached his ears from the other end of the line.

"Veronica!" he said. "This isn't funny. What the fuck am I gonna wear on Saturday?"

"Oh, yes it is," Veronica said when she could catch her breath, her voice still full of mirth. "It's hilariously funny. We've got a Mexican cartel to worry about, and you're concerned about the fit of your dinner jacket."

And with that, she was off again, laughter filling his ear.

"Okay," he said, seeing the humor. "Not an _important_ problem, maybe, but still something that needs to be fixed. Got any suggestions?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before she asked, "Can it be re-tailored?" He could still hear the smile in her voice.

"Well, considering it's a little too narrow in the shoulders, I'd say it can't."

"All right," she said, deciding, "tomorrow we'll get you a new one. When I get to work, I'll find out where to get that kind of thing done quickly, and make an appointment. Right now, I'm late, Logan, so I need to hang up."

"Okay," he said. "And, Veronica?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was a little breathy, as she caught the softness in his tone.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

Thank god there were no similar issues with his dress shoes, he thought, fishing them out and trying them on. He was running through a mental checklist when his phone rang.

It was Wallace, calling early to confirm that, as expected, his mother was eager to participate in Operation Protect Veronica. In fact, he reported that she was "pissed as hell." Logan had met Alicia Fennel a few times so he wasn't surprised to hear that at all.

"She also said that she'd be happy to see Keith Mars again, and I suddenly realized that I just set my mother up with her old boyfriend. Man, that's twisted," he complained.

Logan laughed. "Your idea, man," he said. "And I think it was a pretty good one."

He paused for a moment, wondering how to phrase his next question.

"Hey, do you think your mom might be willing to assist with the other operation, too?" Logan asked. "You know, Operation Latin Sting?"

"Say what?" Wallace objected. "I thought you hired a woman to take care of that. And this is my mom we're talkin' about, Logan, not some..."

"Wallace! Stop right there, man." Logan was chuckling and could hardly get the words out. "Not that part of the operation. I meant with the baked goods. My suite at the St. Regis has a full kitchen, but I've never seen Veronica bake anything besides cookies."

"Mmm. Never gonna forget the taste of Veronica's snickerdoodles!" Wallace said, and they both laughed.

"Yeah, and I don't think those'll work in this...uh...situation. I'm not sure what might, but I thought your mom might have some ideas. Course I'll understand if you don't want to, um, mention anything about this to her..." His voice trailed off. What the hell did he know about moms? Everyday moms, anyway? The kind that would probably kick your ass for even bringing the subject up.

But Wallace's answer surprised him. "Let me sound her out. If she doesn't flip her lid...well, let me just ask her. I'll run by the house on my way home from school."

"Okay, man, thanks." Logan said. "And don't forget to stop by Bridal City and pick out a tux. They have your name so you should be good to go. What about Emily? Does she need...?"

"She's all set - and also all excited. She thinks it's some great big adventure. I can't seem to convince her that it might be dangerous. And she's eager to meet Veronica. After all the stories she's heard, she thinks V is a cross between Lady Macbeth and Cinderella."

Logan laughed. "I'm not sure Veronica would appreciate either of those descriptions," he said. Then his voice softened. "But she is...pretty amazing."

"Logan, wait." Wallace said softly, suddenly earnest.

"Yeah?" Logan thought they'd covered everything.

"I just...I wanted to say this to you last night, but I didn't want...it's kinda...personal."

"Hey, just lay it on me," Logan said, "whatever it is."

Wallace cleared his throat. "Yeah. So Logan, you were kind of a jackass in high school."

Logan erupted in laughter. "Stop the presses," he said. "Fennel states the obvious."

"Just startin' with that! Gettin' to the point. So you were a jackass, and then when we were at Hearst, I thought I could see somethin' other than the jackass peekin' out every once in a while when you thought no one was lookin'."

"Wallace, my man, I am touched and honored by these testaments to my character."

"But not right now," Wallace complained. "Nope! Right now I'm tryna say somethin' and you're bein' 100% jackass!"

"Sorry," Logan mumbled. "Just spit it out, Wallace. You won't hurt my feelings."

"I'm not tryna hurt your feelings, you dipshit! I'm tryna say," he paused, as though he were choosing his words carefully, "what I'm tryna say is..that I never knew that wasn't the real you. That the real you was..a good person. Sometimes even a great person. And that I never understood that it was..the real you..that loved Veronica. Or that it was the real you that Veronica loved. And she did, man. I saw it every day for years. Couldn't understand it," he laughed a little, "but I could see it."

Wallace sighed. "So I didn't get it..before. But I get it now. I hope you can find a way. You know, you and V."

He stopped abruptly. "So that's it," he said.

Logan was nearly speechless.

"Wallace," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "thanks, man."

"Um, yeah, gotta get to work," Wallace said. "I'll call you this afternoon and let you know what my mom says."

He hung up before Logan could say another word around the lump in his throat.

xxxxxxxx

His phone rang again as Logan was struggling to move the zipper around his too-full suitcase.

 _What now?_ he thought. _I hope there are no last-minute hitches._

But it was Keith on the line, and Logan was immediately wary. He suddenly wondered how he'd had the balls to stick his nose into Keith's personal life, so he prepared to fall all over himself apologizing. But as it turned out, those preparations were entirely unnecessary.

"Hi, Keith," he said, picking up. "Everything go okay getting Veronica to work this morning?"

"No problems at all. Not that I thought there would be. This is her last day this week. She took tomorrow off."

"Yeah, she told me," Logan replied.

"So I wanted you to know that Leo is on board with the plan. That is, with the plan of circling the wagons around Veronica. I didn't tell him about the rest of it, about Garcia. He's still a cop and he might feel a little...conflicted. So, best he doesn't know."

"What we're doing isn't really criminal, Keith." Logan protested.

"I think there might be some difference of opinion about that, Logan," he said. "And I'm pretty sure Detective Leo D'Amato of the San Diego Police would come down on the other side."

"Yeah, maybe," Logan had to agree. "But the ball itself? He's coming with...?"

"Lisa. Yes, he and Lisa will be there. Strictly unofficial, of course, but I'll be glad to have another pair of professionally trained eyes looking around, trying to spot anyone who doesn't look like they belong."

"Hey, you know, Keith, my eyesight's pretty good and I'll be watching everyone like a hawk."

"I know you will, and I don't doubt that if it came to it, you'd step in front of a bullet for Veronica."

"You got that right," Logan said tightly. So Keith knew he still felt that way about Veronica. Well, he guessed that wasn't a surprise.

"So was there anything else? I'm just trying to get out of here..."

He could hear the older man clearing his throat on the other end of the line.

"Keith!" he said. "You're making me nervous. What the hell is it?"

"Okay, I officially feel ridiculous. It's about...Alicia."

A light turned on in Logan's head. _I know just how you feel, old man._

Aloud he said only, "What about her?"

"Last night...Wallace hadn't yet spoken to her, so I was wondering if..."

"Everything's all set. Wallace called this morning and said she's happy to do it."

"Oh, she is. Oh, that's good," Keith said uncertainly,

For just a second, Logan wondered if he was actually speaking to the unflappable Keith Mars.

"Maybe," Logan decided to make it a suggestion, "it might be a good idea if, you know, you...gave her a call. Probably put her at ease a little about the whole thing."

"You think I should?" Keith was hesitant.

_Am I actually giving dating advice to Veronica's father?_

"I think it couldn't hurt."

"Right, right," Keith said, then changed the subject abruptly, to Logan's relief. "When should we expect you?"

"Well, if I can ever get off this phone, I guess by dinner time."

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Veronica couldn't remember when she'd had such a difficult time concentrating at work. She loved her job, had, in fact, loved it from the beginning. But right now, today, there were too damn many distractions.

And she was putting Logan Echolls right at the top of the list. If she were being honest, she really hadn't been able to think straight from the moment he'd arrived in the city. It had started at that dinner in Sausalito, and things had only gotten worse. It had taken them almost no time at all to regain the intimacy of their years-long friendship.

Not a physical intimacy, of course, although by now Veronica had plenty of evidence that the physical attraction between them was every bit as strong as it had ever been. But she was really thinking of the way they had of connecting with each other, as though there were some special wavelength that belonged only to Logan and Veronica. That they could dial into without even a thought. She hadn't seen him in almost _six years_ , dammit, but she felt just as close to him as she ever had.

Veronica sighed. She kept trying to hold him at arm's length, knowing that after this..episode..was over, he'd go back to Neptune and she'd remain here in San Francisco. This was where her life was, after all.

But then he'd called last night when her guard was down, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from doing something stupid. She'd asked him to talk her to sleep with that soft, musical voice of his, and had drifted off with the sound of him filling her head. When she'd woken, and remembered, she'd resolved anew to keep him at a distance.

And then he'd called about his tux! She grinned, thinking about the occasionally vain Logan, and his anguish because his suit didn't fit properly. But she _had_ promised to help, so she'd asked around at the office, finally following Len's advice and calling Barney's San Francisco store for assistance.

At first they'd told her it would be "impossible" to purchase a new tux on Friday and expect that it could be worn on Saturday evening. But then she'd asked for the department manager and by the time she heard a new voice on the line, "Amber" had come to her rescue. "Amber," who was getting married on Saturday to a man whose tux had been ruined by the dry cleaner, was so convincingly distressed that the "impossible" had soon become feasible, then probable, and finally guaranteed. She smiled, thinking that she'd have to find a way to explain the ruse to Logan before they visited the store.

She remembered the last time she'd posed as Logan's fiancée. They'd barely been speaking to each other then, were really only a few weeks past being mortal enemies. And yet, somehow, they'd pulled it off. Although, she remembered sadly, in the end it had made no difference.

And this time? She smirked, recognizing that there was a certain irony in the fact that she was posing as Logan's fiancée when she was actually his wife.

Veronica was roused from her reverie by the ringing of her cell, and she was relieved to see that it was Mac. They'd been playing phone tag for more than a day, and while they could have left texts, she felt that this was one conversation that wouldn't lend itself to fits and starts and cheesy abbreviations. This one needed voices and explanations and, very probably, assurances.

"Mac," she said, happy that they'd connected at last. "Finally! I've never left so many messages. I was beginning to think you were blowing me off," she laughed.

"I'm so sorry, Veronica," Mac said. "I tried to find time to call you back, but when you weren't available during my entire five minute lunch break yesterday..." Mac huffed a laugh.

"Five minutes? So what kind of slave drivers are you working for?" Veronica asked, only half kidding.

"Noooo!" Mac said. "They're good to me here. It's just that the project was due this morning and there were last minute issues, and, oh, god, I am _so_ tired!"

"Too tired to keep talking to me?" Veronica asked.

There was a small silence on the other end of the line.

"I've been up half the night, V, but I think this needs a face to face. When are you going to lunch?"

Veronica looked at the clock. 11:45. Close enough.

"How about right now?" she said. "Wanna meet me at _La Dolce Vita_?"

"You couldn't keep me away."

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As it turned out, Mac was delayed just a bit in meeting Veronica for lunch. She was halfway out the door when her phone rang, and she was so sure that it was Veronica calling her back that she answered without looking at her Caller ID.

"Mac!" The voice was loud, exuberant..and familiar. "It's Dick! Dick Casablancas."

Mac couldn't help grinning as she turned back into her office and sat once again behind her desk.

"You know I recognize your voice, Dick," she said, the smile still in her tone. Sometimes Dick acted and sounded like he was still thirteen.

"Yeah, Mac, course you do. I'm an idiot."

There was a pause while she mulled over that statement.

"Yes, you can be, but I've gotten used to it," she laughed.

"I don't know what's the matter with me when I talk to you sometimes..." He laughed ruefully.

"Was there something you wanted, Dick?" she asked, although Mac was 99% sure she knew why he was calling.

"Uh, it's about this weekend, you know, the dance. Logan kinda said that you were, uh, okay with me taking you. I mean, being your escort and shit...uh, stuff. I just...I wanted to make sure he wasn't just, I don't know, yanking my chain."

Dick stopped rambling and Mac could almost sense him holding his breath. She suddenly pictured big, blond, handsome Dick Casablancas waiting nervously to find out if she'd be his date for a dance and a party that was part social event, part con game. She was surprised at how endearing she found that.

"Yeah, of course we can go together. I mean, I'd like it if you were my escort." She didn't want to sound condescending, although she was pretty sure Dick wouldn't have noticed.

Mac could swear she heard him exhale on the other end of the line.

"That's great, Mac," he said. "This shit that Ronnie's going through is..."

"You know, we probably shouldn't talk about that," Mac said quickly before he could go any further.

"Yeah. I know that. Logan drummed it into me to keep it to myself. I just thought...since it was you..." His voice trailed off.

"Just...not on the phone," she explained.

Mac heard Dick's sigh as clearly as if he were in the same room with her. Then a chuckle.

"Someday," he said, "I'm going to surprise myself by showing a little common sense. But I guess not today."

Mac thought all 28 years were present and accounted for in that statement, and she gave a little laugh.

"Not too much sense, Dick. I still want to know it's you."

She heard his bark of laughter on the other end of the line.

"So should I come pick you up or will I meet you at Logan's suite?"

"I'm about to have lunch with Veronica...in fact I'm late. I'll have to see what she says."

"Okay," he said. "Go ahead if you're late for lunch. Um, Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I...just thanks."

"My pleasure," she said, surprised to find that it was.

xxxxxxxx

Mac's office was much closer to _La Dolce Vita_ than Veronica's, so despite being delayed, Mac arrived only a few minutes after her friend. They were a bit ahead of the lunchtime crowd, and Veronica had been able to snag the last available table.

"I was sure you'd get here first," Veronica said. "Your office is so close."

"Yeah, sorry, I got...held up."

"Anything important?"

Mac shrugged. "Just Dick, calling about the dance."

"Dick... _Casablancas_? Why would he be...? Oh, no, you're not really..."

Mac laughed. "I think you should finish one of those sentences."

Veronica fumed. "I'm going to kill Logan," she said.

Mac just smiled and shook her head. "I don't mind going to the ball with Dick," she said.

"But...but I thought you said that you _tolerated_ each other. And then Logan told me..." She stopped for a minute, considering whether to disclose this information to her friend.

"Logan told you what?" Mac asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"He said that Dick might possibly have a little...thing for you." Veronica tried to deliver the shocking news as gently as possible.

"Oh, that," Mac dismissed it. "You think I don't know that?"

Veronica's mouth gaped as she absorbed yet another piece of news. She was beginning to feel like she must have been living in a bubble while her oldest friends were participating in a thing called Real Life.

The waitress came to take their orders then, and when she left, Mac decided a shift in the conversation was necessary.

"Not to change the subject," she said with a little grimace, "but what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

Veronica smiled ruefully. "It does seem like the gods of irony just won't let me out of their clutches, doesn't it? After so many years of not having any kind of serious relationship, I finally decided to be with Matthew because he felt...safe. I didn't think he could...well, hurt me. And he hasn't," she rushed on, "not...like that." She grimaced. "But to find out that he's 'connected'? Yeah, that was a shock."

"And now you're actually in danger from his...his pals? I just...I couldn't believe it when Logan explained it to me."

"Yeah," Veronica said faintly. "Me, either."

She shook her head, and continued.

"And what makes me even more furious is that I bought his bullshit about his passion to become Attorney General, and...and clean up local government. What utter crap!" Her voice was low and furious.

"But..you're doing something about that too, right? I mean, besides making sure that...you're safe, there's a plan for..him..too. Right?" Mac asked quietly.

At that moment, the waitress appeared with their lunches, and Veronica waited for her to leave the table before she responded.

Mac's patience lasted through one bite of her favorite risotto.

"Veronica?" she prompted.

For the first time since they'd sat down, a small smile lit Veronica's face.

"Oh, yeah," she drawled. "There is a plan in play. If it works - and it will - he won't be running for office any time in the near future. Or like ever." She smirked with self-satisfaction.

"Well, if it's one of _your_ plans," Mac began, grinning.

"Mine and Logan's," Veronica corrected. "I don't want to go into detail here, but I'll explain it all at the planning meeting on Saturday afternoon."

"Meeting?"

"Three o'clock in Logan's suite, just before we all change into our fancy duds. Then we'll be back there for the pre-party."

"Pre-party? Logan did call to ask me about the elevator, and I told him that wouldn't be a problem, but he never mentioned a party."

"You've been a little out of the loop, Mac," she teased. "Operation Latin Sting begins in Logan's suite just before the ball where our little reunion party will meet for drinks and...appetizers."

Veronica grinned. She knew this was a dangerous situation, and she knew that she had become the personal target of some very nasty cartel bosses, but she had to think it would all turn out all right. She had to believe that in the end she'd be safe. And meanwhile, if she was relishing a tiny, little adrenaline rush, who was to say she wasn't entitled?

She dug her fork into her manicotti and popped a satisfyingly large biteful into her mouth, chewing it thoroughly, while Mac just shook her head.

"What?" she asked Mac, seeing her expression.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Mac asked. "Going all James Bond again."

Veronica sighed heavily. "I can't just sit around and be afraid, Mac," she said honestly. "It's just not in me. I have to fight back, and I can't help it if I enjoy the fight."

"And what about Logan? Is he enjoying the fight, too?"

Veronica put down her fork and cleared her throat.

"He's always been so...protective, Mac. And before, when we were together, it always bugged me. You know it did. You were there. I know he was just afraid for me, afraid I'd get hurt, but back then it made me feel like he thought I was...inadequate. Like I needed a keeper."

"Well, as a matter of fact..."

"Mac! Not helping!"

But when she looked at Mac's quirked eyebrows and pursed mouth, Veronica couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay," she admitted. "Maybe I got myself into some situations I shouldn't have. Dangerous situations that I couldn't handle. But that was _then_. Since Hearst, I've pretty much managed to stay out of trouble. This was not my fault!" She was quietly insistent.

"Agreed," Mac said. "But it's still something you can't deal with on your own."

"No," Veronica said softly, agreeing. "It isn't. And Logan's been...great. He still wants to protect me, but this time we're working together. We made these plans together, and Logan's been clever, and smart, and he's had a lot of good ideas. It was so much better than him beating yet another guy to a pulp. Another guy who's 'connected connected'."

"It has been six years, Veronica," Mac reminded her. "I'm pretty sure Logan's grown up a little, too."

Veronica nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Mac polished off the rest of her risotto and washed it down with some water before she spoke again.

"So...afterwards," she said off-handedly. "After you turn the bad guys' attention...elsewhere and successfully remove one political candidate. Then what?"

"I don't understand," Veronica tried.

"I'm not buying it, Veronica," Mac said softly. "You know exactly what I'm asking you. What are you going to do about Logan?"

Veronica was silent for so long that Mac was sure that this time she'd really pissed her off, but she decided she didn't care. She loved Veronica, and she hated to see her making the same mistake over and over.

"Honestly, Mac," she said quietly, "If I could find a way to keep Logan in my life, I would. But I...it's just too hard. Something always happens and we...end up hurting each other."

Mac eyed her thoughtfully and gave her a sympathetic little smile.

"I'm hoping that someday soon you're going to figure out that's just your fear talking, Veronica. You need to find a way to stop being afraid to let yourself be happy."

The check arrived then and Mac grabbed it. "My treat," she said, throwing several bills on the table. "I gotta get back to work. Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you on Saturday."

Mac was up and out the door before Veronica could say another word. Which perhaps was just as well, because she'd had no idea at all how to respond.

xxxxxxxx

Keith Mars felt like an idiot. He had a date with an old girlfriend, courtesy of her son and his...son-in-law. The last time he'd been "fixed up" had been in ninth grade when he'd been too shy to ask his crush to the spring dance. It had not gone well.

But back then, he'd had a full head of hair and infinite optimism. Now, he sometimes wondered if there wasn't more chance of his regaining his departed follicles than achieving a positive outlook on his...social life.

He'd made a quick call during what he'd hoped was Wallace's lunch period to get Alicia's number, and now the only thing standing between him and a pleasant conversation with an old...friend...was his own defeatist mentality when it came to women.

He'd been telling himself over and over that this couldn't possibly be a good idea. And yet he'd agreed to it, and so had she according to two young men who had no reason to lie. But he was nevertheless surprised. Things hadn't ended well between Alicia and him years ago, and while he'd seen her in passing over the years, they'd never exchanged more than polite hellos. Why had she agreed?

Keith sat on Veronica's couch wondering what the hell was wrong with him. His daughter had inadvertently become involved with a member of a Mexican drug cartel, which was planning to end her life solely as some kind of macabre...publicity stunt. He should be obsessing over that, not casual dates with old flames.

Screw it!

He punched in Alicia's number and his palms started to sweat as soon as he heard the ringing in his ear. Maybe she won't answer, he thought, after the third ring. Maybe she's --

"Hello?" Alicia's voice was light and clear, just as he remembered.

"Alicia? It's..Keith." Wonderful opening. He should maybe switch to writing dialogue for a living.

"Keith. How nice of you to call." Her voice was pleasant, friendly.

"Well, it seemed like it might be a good idea under the, uh, circumstances. I haven't..caught you at a bad time, have I?" he asked politely.

Alicia still worked in software, but she was now in upper management for a Kane Software rival that had opened in Neptune a half dozen years back. Keith may not have seen her recently, but he'd cared enough to keep track of her life.

"Not at all," she said. "In fact, I was about to leave a little early because Wallace called and said he was coming by after school to talk to me." She gave a little laugh. "It's nice to finally have a job where I have some flexibility."

"You should try mine," he said. "Nothing _but_ flexibility. Of course, sometimes I'm flexed into working 48 hours straight..."

Alicia laughed. "There is that," she said.

"Look," Keith said suddenly, "I just wanted to say...really to thank you...for doing this. For Veronica, I mean."

Alicia was silent for a moment.

Finally, she said, "You know, Keith, it's not exactly a chore to fly up to San Francisco to be your...date for a fancy ball. I'm looking forward to...dancing with you again. And besides, I'm just so angry about what that man did to Veronica. If there was anything else I could do to help her out, I wouldn't hesitate."

She stopped, but Keith sensed that she had more to say.

Alicia sighed. "I'll never forget the day I met Veronica. Let's just say that I got entirely the wrong impression about Wallace and her. It took me a long time to understand their friendship. To understand Veronica. She's got that 'take charge' attitude, and at first I thought she was a tough cookie all the way through. But inside...inside there's just a soft, sweet center."

Alicia laughed. "I think I've just made her sound like a candy bar!"

Keith laughed, too. "Maybe a little, but you're right, that's just how she is. It's how she's always been."

"And what about Logan?" Alicia asked suddenly. "Wallace explained to me about their situation. It's rather...bizarre, I suppose. But...he and Wallace have been friends for a few years now, and I've learned that Logan Echolls is _nothing_ like his press."

She paused again. "Is there any chance, do you think, that he and Veronica might...?"

Keith sighed. "From your lips to God's ears," he said.

Alicia interrupted suddenly. "I'm sorry, Keith, but I'm going to have to hang up now. I promised Wallace I'd be home soon..."

"Okay," he said. "Just...I'm glad you agreed to do this, Alicia, not just for Veronica. I'm...looking forward to seeing you. Very much," he added gallantly.

He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "Me, too. I'll...see you on Saturday."

When Keith hung up the phone, he had a feeling that his first fix-up in forty years was going to go considerably better than the last one had. What do you know? he thought. Optimism. On impulse he reached up and ran a hand across the top of his head, just in case.

Nope. Not yet, anyway.

xxxxxxxx

Between the arrangements, the packing, and the interminable phone calls, Logan hadn't managed to leave Neptune until nearly noon. The 2 o'clock shuttle out of San Diego had been sold out, and he'd had to wait for the 3:15 flight. So here it was, nearly 5 o'clock, and he was just now getting to San Francisco.

He'd just stepped off the jetway into the terminal when his phone rang. He followed the signs to Baggage Claim as he pulled out his phone to answer it. It took him a moment to realize that it was the wrong phone.

_Shit! It must be Loretta. What the hell did I do with that phone?_

Logan felt every pocket, finally finding it on the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Hello?"

"Hello, darling, it's me, Chandra." The voice that came through sounded nothing like the Loretta he'd met the day before at the diner.

"Uh, I think you must have a wrong..."

"Logan, it's me," she said with a laugh.

"Loretta?"

"Chandra James," she corrected in a voice that sounded like wealthy Californian, by way of Boston.

"The room is just delightful, darling," she continued. "Thanks for recommending this hotel. And I was able to purchase the ticket you mentioned." She paused. "Would you like to hear about the fabulous dress I got at just a fraction of retail?" she asked.

Logan laughed. "I think I'll pass," he said. He continued uncertainly. "But I _will_ be able to...recognize you, won't I?"

She laughed then, definitely a Loretta laugh, as she returned to her normal voice.

"I've always wanted to look like Jada Pinkett-Smith," she said, "but I'm afraid I didn't have time for plastic surgery."

Logan breathed a sigh of relief. "Well after your voice..."

"Acting, darling," 'Chandra' replied. "But you should know all about that shit," Loretta continued in her normal tones.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you have more talent than either of my...parents. Now you're sure you remember about the elevator on Saturday?" Logan was concerned. So many things could go wrong.

"Don't sweat it, kid," she said. "I've pulled off things that were a lot trickier than this con. And besides, Cliffie explained to me that this wasn't just some rich boy's game."

She paused, as if considering her words.

"I saw her a couple of times, you know. Your...friend. She...helped Cliffie out once or twice when he was representing me. During my less...law-abiding days." Loretta laughed, as though at fond memories. "Sure, I know she was paid. Hell, you're paying me! But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate a job well done."

"Sorry. I'm just a little...uptight," Logan said.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, kid, did you know that there's gonna be a presentation at this ball?"

"I...didn't," Logan said. "Does that help us in some way?"

"It's just what we needed. Let me tell you how it's gonna work, so you can brief your, um, team."

By the time the call ended, Logan had picked up his bags and was headed to long-term parking to pick up his rental. And he was far more optimistic about their plan. Plans. Both of them.

_Fuck, we might just pull this off!_

xxxxxxxx

Veronica had been home from work for only a few minutes when her phone rang. She tried, but it was impossible to stop the smile that spread across her face when she saw that it was Logan.

"Hey," she said, as diffidently as possible. They'd spoken only that morning about Logan's wardrobe issues, but she'd been thinking about him off and on all day. Mostly on since her lunch with Mac.

"Hey," he said, his voice laced with the extra layer of warmth that was so often there when he spoke to her. "I've got a lot to tell you. Can you come here for dinner? In the restaurant, I mean."

"My dad..."

"And Keith, too, of course. I meant...both of you."

Had he, she wondered? If she hadn't mentioned her dad, would he have invited her to the hotel so that they could have dinner alone? She didn't want to know.

Logan broke into her thoughts. "Damn, Veronica. Wallace is calling and I really need to talk to him. I'll meet you in the lounge at 7, okay?"

She'd barely got "Okay" out of her mouth before he'd hung up.

xxxxxxxx

"Logan."

"Wallace. What's up?"

"She'll do it. My mom. Not only will she do it, she has something called Italian Savory Squares that she says will work perfectly."

"Shit! I can't believe it. That's just...great."

"So you got a pen or somethin'? She says she needs a few ingredients. Plus a couple pans. Says you'll need two for it to work."

Logan paused. "She done this kind of thing before?" he asked.

"Damned if I know! Sometimes I wonder if I know anythin' at all about Alicia Fennel. Now get that pen, willya? I'm late, and I don't need Emily all over my ass."

Logan laughed and grabbed the pen and paper from the nightstand. First time he could ever remember actually using them.

"Shoot," he said.

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When they reached the St. Regis, Keith and Veronica found Logan waiting for them just outside the lounge.

"We could have a drink first...or just eat?" He looked at them both inquiringly.

Veronica looked at the men. "I vote for food," she said, and the others nodded, unsurprised.

Keith asked for a table in the back to avoid the admittedly slim possibility that they might be overheard.

"Force of habit," he explained. "We certainly don't want any eavesdroppers."

They'd barely been seated before Veronica started in on Logan.

"You fixed up Mac and Dick! I thought you neither _encouraged_ nor _discouraged_." She was clearly not pleased.

Logan laughed and shook his head. " _That's_ what you want to talk about? With everything that's going on, that's your first question? It's just one night, Veronica, and Mac didn't have to agree to it. But I know you know that."

"He really likes her, huh?" She was still having trouble with all the things she didn't know about her friends.

"He really does. Now can we put that topic to bed and talk about something really important? Like my new tux."

"Oh, yeah, well that's the one that should definitely be at the top of the list. Your evening clothes!"

Logan smirked. "I like to project a certain aesthetic," he said. "So what have you got lined up?"

"Tomorrow morning at 11, we have an appointment at Barney's. It was the earliest time they'd give me."

Logan smiled. "That's great, Veronica. I wasn't sure you'd be able to pull it off."

"Oh, please," she said, condescendingly. "I've made grown men cry on the witness stand. I think I can handle persuading a department store to sell us a suit."

She paused.

"Although I may have had to use a tiny ruse to get them to agree. I'll...explain it to you before we get to the store," she told him, glancing sideways at her father in some embarrassment.

"That's my girl," Keith said. "Who said I didn't raise a clever little con artist?"

"Dad! It's not...that bad."

"I'm glad to hear it," Keith said.

The waitress appeared to take their orders and conversation was momentarily suspended. When the server left, Keith asked, "Now do you think we might discuss something a little more important than Logan's clothes or Mac's dates?"

While they ate, Logan brought them up to date on Loretta Cancun's progress. "Or maybe we should start calling her by her new name, Chandra James."

"I'm not sure I remember what Loretta looks like," Keith said.

"I have a feeling it's not going to make any difference. I think our girl Loretta might be a bit of a chameleon," Logan said.

"And in another piece of news," he continued, "Alicia has agreed to help with our...baking project." Logan glanced over at Keith as he let that tidbit drop.

"What! You can't get her involved in that!" Keith was more than a little concerned.

"We're all involved, Keith. And Alicia is the one person who can make it work, make it seem natural."

"He's right, Dad," Veronica said. She glanced over at Logan. "Although I'm more than a little surprised that she agreed."

Logan chuckled. "Probably not half as surprised as Wallace. I think he's still talking to himself."

Veronica smiled. "I can't wait to see Wallace, meet Emily. When are they arriving?"

"They're all coming on the 9am shuttle, so they should get to the hotel before noon."

Veronica shook her head. "I still can't believe they were all able to come help out like this, especially on such short notice."

Logan smiled at her fondly. "They're doing it...we're all doing it...because we're your friends and you needed our help. They all know you'd do the same for them,Veronica, because that's what friends do."

He held her gaze for several moments until they both remembered that Keith Mars was sitting at the table with them and they looked away.

Keith cleared his throat, wishing he could knock their heads together. "What about Matthew, honey?" he asked. "Have you explained to him about the 'reunion' and the 'pre-party'?"

Veronica's expression hardened. "Tomorrow," she said. "I didn't want to give him too much time to think about it."

"And what if he refuses?" Keith asked. "What if he doesn't want any part of your reunion?"

"Easy. He's still insisting that I wear the ring, so it'll be an exchange of favors. I'll wear the ring and he'll come to the party. Of course, I'll tell him that my friends think we're still engaged, so he'll have to play the doting fiancé. He'll be forced to agree. He won't have a choice."

Veronica contemplated, as she had so many times in the past couple of days, just how callously Matthew Garcia had sought to draw her into his criminal plans. How little he'd considered how that might compromise her career as a prosecutor. How thoughtlessly he'd placed her in a position where her life was actually in danger. She shivered a little thinking about what might have happened if Evie hadn't been sitting in that hot tub.

"Are you cold?" Logan asked, making a move to remove his jacket.

Veronica stopped him. "I'm fine," she said.

Veronica watched as the check arrived and the two men fought over it, Logan winning this time around. It was like old times, she thought. Like those few months when she'd been so happy and the three of them had felt like a family. They'd gone out to eat several times and the men had wrangled over the check every time.

Before they left the table, Veronica decided to mention the other thing that had been on her mind.

"There's something else that's been bothering me," she said.

"What's that, honey?" Keith asked.

Veronica looked unhappy. "I felt so...guilty at work today. I should be telling Len all about this. We should be doing something about Matthew, not just...just playing tricks on him."

Logan sighed. "What would you tell Len, Veronica? He's a prosecutor. He deals in facts. All we have is speculation, innuendo, and guilt by association. Enough to convince you to get the hell out of Garcia's life. Not enough to bring any criminal charges."

"But...we have Evie now," Veronica argued half-heartedly.

"Yes," Keith said. "And she's already taken a chance, helping us. I spoke to her yesterday and today and she's doing okay at her friend's house. But, honey, she's scared. What she heard is unsubstantiated by any physical evidence. But if they knew she'd overheard..."

Keith paused to let that sink in.

"So I've got to agree with Logan on this, Veronica. At least for now. That doesn't mean that you can't drop a quiet hint after this is all over."

"It's just...Len's wife, Maggie, she actually works for Matthew..." Veronica was torn. She was fond of Len, hated to see his family distressed in any way.

"As do a lot of other people, honey," Keith reminded her. "There's no reason to think any of them have any reason to worry. Depending on what happens this weekend, they may be looking to move on, anyway."

Veronica frowned. She knew she'd have to be satisfied with that for the moment.

As they left the restaurant and moved out into the lobby, Logan said, as diffidently as he could manage, "Why don't we have a drink in the lounge before you leave?"

Keith figured he knew his cue when he heard it. "Go ahead, Veronica. The old man's a little tired, though, so I'll just..."

But Veronica wasn't reading from the same script. "No!" she said quickly, and Logan couldn't keep the disappointment from his eyes.

Keith sighed. He knew damn well she wanted to stay. She'd practically leaped at the phone when Logan had called earlier. But her stubbornness was, as always, unparalleled.

"Thanks for dinner," Keith said, shaking Logan's hand. "My turn next time." He turned to his daughter. "Why don't you wait here, honey?" he said. "I'll go outside and find us a taxi."

He left, determined to give the kid a break and take his time. After all, taxis were sometimes difficult to come by at this time of night.

"You sure you don't want to stay for one drink, Veronica?" Logan asked again, doing his best not to press, however much he might want to. They'd been getting along so well and he didn't want to push his luck.

Veronica was torn, terrified of spending any more time alone with Logan. Especially at night. Especially if alcohol might be involved. But, oh, how she wanted to. The truth was that the more she saw of Logan, the more she craved his company. It was like an addiction, the same one she'd been fighting for years.

He smiled at her now, the soft smile, the one that did things to her heart.

"We haven't really had much chance to talk since last Sunday," he said. "Alone, I mean."

Veronica smiled at him brightly. "We're having a little adventure tomorrow," she reminded him.

"An adventure? I thought we were just shopping?"

"Ah, yes. Well, there may have been something I forgot to tell you. I had to tell the manager at Barney's that the dry cleaner ruined your tux, and then convince him that this was more than just a, uh, slight inconvenience."

Logan folded his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for the punchline.

"And your convincing argument was...?" he prompted.

"Well," and now that bright smile had morphed into a self-satisfied smirk, "you may not have heard but we're getting married on Saturday."

Logan's face went blank, and then as the irony hit him, he gave her a wry smile.

"So, I have to play the part of your fiancé - again. At least this time you're giving me some advance warning, unlike the day you showed up at the Sunset Regent with a scrapbook full of wedding cakes. Don't you have any new scams in that bag of tricks?" he teased.

"Well, that one always seems the most plausible," she said, her smirk turning into a whine as she defended her use of the same ruse a second time.

"Oh, it's very plausible. After all, I seem to remember that at one time we were engaged. For, if I remember correctly, two whole days."

Logan nodded his head sagely and pressed his lips together, an airy expression on his face, the very picture of smug condescension.

"If I need to, you know, find a way to get 'into the part' of your fiancé, I can look back on those two days for inspiration. I do like to think of myself as a method actor."

They were grinning at each other gleefully, anticipating some fun, by the time Keith poked his head back into the lobby to let Veronica know the taxi was waiting.

"See you tomorrow, Logan," Veronica said, grabbing both his hands and squeezing them before she turned around and walked toward the doorway.

"Goodnight, Sugarpuss," Logan called after her as she stepped through the exit.

Five minutes later he was sitting at the bar, marveling at the paradox that was Veronica Mars. She was still his wife, although she barely acknowledged the fact. But that didn't stop her from unnecessarily creating a situation where she'd have to pretend to be his fiancée, complete, no doubt, with tender glances and loving touches.

And yet...and yet...she was too skittish to sit and have a drink with him within sight of a dozen other people. He shook his head, smiling to himself.

Logan drained his glass, and contemplated the woman who'd stolen his heart so many years ago. She was a mass of contradictions, so afraid of her own feelings that she sometimes pretended not to have any. But he knew they were there, and he wasn't giving up this time until she admitted them, until she acted on them. No matter how long it took.


	16. Part II - Chapter 11

Part II - Chapter 11

When the alarm woke him at 8 a.m., Logan groaned in protest. For the second night in a row he'd had trouble falling asleep, and he was in danger of becoming seriously sleep-deprived. He desperately wanted to throw the clock across the room, but instead he allowed himself just one push of the snooze button. When it rang again nine minutes later he rolled out of bed and dragged himself into the bathroom.

He may have had one or two Scotches too many last night, Logan reflected, checking out his bleary-eyed self in the mirror. Sitting on a barstool, drinking in solitary splendor. Christ! He hadn't engaged in that kind of self-destructive behavior since his earliest days at the _Beachside Tavern_. It was not a habit he intended to revive.

It was only 8:15, and he wasn't picking up Veronica until 10:45, but before that happened he had two important appointments to keep. First, he needed to check in with Loretta Cancun in person to assure himself that he'd recognize her when everything went down. She said she'd changed her hair, but how much could that really alter someone's looks? Logan smiled as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water soothe his tired body. He was looking forward to learning exactly how she'd managed to transform herself into Chandra James.

After he saw Loretta, he'd be taking a quick trip out to Pacifica to see Milo Sussman at the _Surf's Up_ NorCal franchise. Dick had promised him that he'd call Milo and make all the arrangements, and Logan hoped to god that Dick had followed through.

When he and Keith and Veronica had come up with the plans on Tuesday night, they'd debated this particular issue for what seemed like hours. In the end, he knew it was only her fear that had forced Veronica to concede the point.

That's when he knew she was far more frightened than she'd been willing to admit.

They'd felt pretty confident about Operation Protect Veronica, their plan to prevent any of those nasty 'accidents' from occurring at the ball. But they'd also agreed that that was only half the job, that Veronica would still be jeopardy until Garcia was no longer a viable candidate. If he were no longer running, then presumably the cartel would lose interest in Veronica. Or so they fervently hoped.

So the question had become, how could they precipitate Garcia's downfall? How could they ensure that he would be so thoroughly humiliated that his political support would immediately evaporate and he'd be forced to withdraw from the race?

It was vital that his fall from grace be in no way connected to his mob ties, because that could be dangerous for all of them, including Garcia. No, Matthew Garcia's disgrace must be seen as a personal failing. It should be utterly frivolous, very public, and render him completely unsuitable as a candidate.

As they discussed their limited options, the ball seemed to them like the best opportunity, and they knew it was unlikely there'd be another. The primaries were fast upon them, and should Garcia actually succeed in winning the party's nomination, the stakes would increase exponentially. If it ever looked like Garcia might actually stand a chance of becoming the new Attorney General, they would have no choice but to go to the authorities with what they knew, which could put them all at risk.

So out of necessity, they'd concocted their second plan, a more elaborate and detailed exercise which they'd dubbed Operation Latin Sting. And they'd have given themselves a fair chance of pulling that one off, too, if it weren't for the one inconvenient fact that Matthew Garcia generally walked around with a stick up his ass. That wasn't exactly how Veronica had put it, of course. She'd just said that he was careful and conservative, and that she'd never seen him drink to excess.

And that's when the debate had begun.

With Veronica's personal history, she'd been adamantly opposed to the idea of surreptitiously feeding Garcia a mind-altering substance, and Logan had been unable to convince her that they had to use whatever means necessary to disentangle her from this dangerous situation.

Perhaps surprisingly, it was Keith who had eventually won her over.

"Veronica," Keith had told her, "we're only going to have one chance at this, one bite at the apple. And we've got to make sure we knock it out of the park."

Logan wasn't sure if it had been the mixed metaphors or the baseball analogy, but Veronica had finally, reluctantly, capitulated. If Veronica ever again wanted to feel safe - if she wanted her life back - then failure was simply not an option.

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He and Loretta had agreed that they could not be seen talking to each other in the hotel. Logan doubted that the cartel would ever have her investigated, would most likely write her off as an oversexed middle-aged former trophy wife, with too much money and too little sense. But you could never tell what zealot might decide to look into her, so precautions must be taken.

The fact that she was staying at the St. Regis was hardly suspicious. A lot of wealthy individuals called the St. Regis their 'home away from home' when they were visiting San Francisco. But there were cameras in every public space in the hotel, and even a brief conversation could seem suspect, if someone were to make the connection. And besides, that's what the burner phones were for.

No, Logan only wanted to sneak a peek at the socialite Chandra James from Boston, so that he'd be aware of her presence when the "operation" went down. So they'd agreed to meet in the breakfast room at 9 o'clock. Not for breakfast, but for a "viewing."

Fatigue had delayed him, so Logan was a little late in making his appearance. His eyes swept the fairly small space surreptitiously, as he unconsciously looked for the PTA mom from earlier in the week. What the hell? She hadn't made it? Logan was starting to get worried, and was more than a little pissed.

Of course, his mood improved when the beautiful woman in the far corner looked up and smiled at him saucily. Logan smiled back automatically, a reflex action that had always annoyed Veronica. But, hell! A pretty woman smiled at you, you smiled back.

On second thought, he hoped he hadn't been too encouraging. He was not in the market for a casual hookup. That might have been his style ten years ago, but he'd left that kind of behavior behind with his youth. He was quickly overcome with guilt. Goddammit! Veronica was right. He shouldn't just smile at every flirtatious woman who came along, because one of these days it was going to lead to problems. One of these days, one of them was going to turn out to be....

Holy shit! One of these days, the beautiful woman was going to turn out to be Loretta Cancun!

How the hell did she do that? She looked completely different. From this distance, at least ten years younger. When they'd met at the diner, she'd been attractive in a conservative sort of way, but now? Now she was less Michelle Obama and more...Kerry Washington. Less loving wife and more...scandalous mistress.

When she got up to leave the room, there was a swing in her step that hadn't been there before. Logan didn't know how she'd managed it, but her clothes looked like she'd just gotten back from Fashion Week.

When Loretta/Chandra walked by his table, Logan was sure he caught the barest of winks. The waiter brought him a coffee, and as he sipped it he wondered what other surprises this day might have in store for him.

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Since he'd made it a point to stay away from San Francisco, Logan had never visited the _Surf's Up_ shop in Pacifica. It was a franchise, anyway, and they had very little to do with the NorCal enterprise, except to ensure that Kyle's revolutionary surfboards were prominently featured. The franchise had been doing well, but Dick had made a couple of additional trips north when a more experienced hand was required and had become friendly with the shop's manager, Milo Sussman.

Unlike Dick, Milo had no financial stake in the shop he managed, but was a perennial 'surfer dude'. He was over thirty, but seemed to be permanently stuck in a late-adolescent groove of surfing, women, and getting high. It was that last activity that had brought Logan to his door.

"Hey, Duuude," Milo said as soon as he walked in the door, "you must be Logan." Milo was grinning from ear to ear, as though Logan paying a visit to the shop was the highlight of his life. Or at least his day.

Logan smirked in return. "How'd you know, man?" he asked innocently. "I left my special 'My Name is Logan' t-shirt at home today."

"Whoa!" Milo was enthralled. "Where can I get one of those?"

"Hey, your name's Logan, too?" Logan asked, quirking a brow.

"Nooooo, man," Milo said, his face a mass of confusion. "I meant, you know, with 'Milo'..."

He caught sight of the expression on Logan's face.

"Hey," he said, his smile widening even more, "you're just dickin' with me, right?"

"Yeah, sorry," Logan said, not sorry at all. This guy, he thought, made Dick Casablancas look like a rocket scientist. With a double major in brain surgery.

"Oh, hey, no worries, man," Milo said, his smile still firmly in place. "You're a funny guy. Dick never told me what a funny guy you were."

Logan was silent as he contemplated being the topic of a conversation between Dick and Milo.

Milo continued, nodding his head, as though Logan had responded to his last comment. "But he did describe you, and, yep, I'm pretty sure you're Logan." Milo was inordinately pleased with himself.

Logan was beginning to feel liked he'd slipped down some rabbit hole where the Mad Hatter was in charge. _This_ guy ran the surf shop?

"So, uh, Milo," he said, deciding to just get on with it. "I hate to eat and run, but I'm gonna need that item that Dick asked you about."

Milo looked perplexed. "We're gonna eat?" he asked.

Logan shook his head and smiled.

"Oh," said Milo, catching on, "you were just makin' another joke, right?" His wide smile had returned.

"Something like that," Logan conceded. "But about the..?" He quirked a brow, cocked his head, and left the sentence unfinished.

Milo's face took on a shifty look. "In the back, Dude," he said. "I don't usually like to do this in the shop. Bad for business, you know? Made an exception for you, though. Friend of Dick's."

Logan followed Milo into a room at the back of the shop that was obviously used as part office, part storage area. Milo reached into a desk drawer and took out a plastic sandwich bag, in the bottom of which Logan could see a small amount of product.

"This gonna be enough?" Milo asked. "'Cause I can make a phone call..."

"Plenty," Logan said. "What do I owe you?"

Milo named a figure and after Logan paid him, he took out a crisp new Benjamin and tucked it into Milo's shirt pocket.

"I was never here," he said, wondering if this pothead was going to get the message.

A canny look came over Milo's face then, and he winked at Logan.

"Neither was I," he said.

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They'd gone out to breakfast at the small cafe at the end of the street, the one that Veronica had discovered almost as soon as she'd moved into the apartment. If you wanted the quintessential American breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast, maybe pancakes, this place was nirvana. For Veronica, as long as bacon was included in the mix, everything else was pretty much interchangeable.

She'd really been enjoying having her dad around, except for the fact that he was watching her more closely than he had since...well...ever! She could barely move before he wanted to know what she was doing and where she was going, and this was now day three of helicopter parenting. Which would probably have been okay if she were 8, but at 28?

Not that Veronica wasn't grateful. It had been a long time since she'd had to worry about her physical safety, and she couldn't say she was relishing reacquainting herself with the sensation.

When she'd heard that mobsters were planning to use her death as some sort of "publicity stunt" to garner sympathy for Garcia, she'd been appalled by the absolute cold-bloodedness of the plan. It was one thing to learn that she'd been a pawn in a criminal scheme to get Matthew elected Attorney General. But to be slated to become a _martyr_ to something as mundane as an election? That spoke of a level of ruthlessness that was beyond anything Veronica had previously encountered.

She had to believe that everything that she and Logan and her dad had planned earlier in the week was going to work out. That the weight of fear and anxiety that had pressed down upon her for three days was going to be lifted soon. That she wouldn't have to spend much longer trying not to panic, trying to keep the dread from working its way up to the surface from the pit of her stomach.

Veronica looked over at her father now, smiling as she watched him wolf down his pancakes and glance through the newspaper. She knew she'd been extraordinarily lucky when it came to her male parent. No father could care about her, or for her, with more love and more diligence than Keith Mars displayed. And she could not have loved him more for being there when she needed him.

That's why she felt a little guilty sometimes. A little uncomfortable. Because it hadn't taken long before she'd come to the realization that as cherished and protected as her father made her feel, she only felt completely safe when Logan was around. When he was within her sight. Smiling at her. Taking care of everything. When she could, if she'd wanted to, reach out and touch him. Not that she did. Veronica had focused hard on keeping her hands to herself.

But Logan had always been a protector, had always wanted, very particularly, to be her protector. And this week, she'd been very much inclined to let him. To sink into the safety of him.

Of course, she was _disinclined_ to think too much about exactly what that said about her.

Veronica glanced at her watch. "You about done, Dad?"

Keith looked up. "We in a hurry?" There were still a few bites of his pancakes left.

"It's just," she grimaced, "I still have to call...Matthew. Tell him about the pre-party. I haven't actually spoken to him since...Evie came by the suite," she explained. "I've kind of been...dreading it."

Keith nodded. "You've got your phone, right? Why don't you pull it out right now and call him? Don't think about it. Just tell him we're having breakfast and then tell him about the party."

"You think?" she asked, skeptical. "I shouldn't...I don't know...have a game plan?"

Keith shrugged. "Veronica. You're inviting him to a reunion of some of your old friends. _You_ may know it's more than that, but why should _he_ think so? I'm sure he knows nothing about any threats on your life."

Veronica nodded her agreement.

Keith continued, "All he knows is that you're doing him a favor. So it's not strange that you'd ask for one in return."

"You're right," she said pulling her phone out of her bag and scrolling down her contact list.

"Matthew," she said, when he picked up the line.

"Veronica! I'm...surprised to hear from you. You haven't changed your mind..."

Veronica could hear the beginnings of panic.

"No, no," she said, airily, as though everything in her life were just fine and dandy. 'I just wanted to let you know that our evening is going to be starting a bit earlier than we originally planned tomorrow."

"Oh?" he said warily.

"Yes. It seems that Logan...you remember that Logan is taking Evie to the ball? Of course you do. You mentioned it to me yourself. Well, Logan has gotten it into his head that this ball would be a great time to have a little reunion of some of our old friends."

"A...reunion?" Veronica heard the puzzled tone in Matthew's voice.

"Yes." She paused. "Logan's always been, well, just a little...eccentric. Got all that money he doesn't know what to do with," she continued condescendingly, as though she found Logan just slightly ridiculous.

"Indeed," Matthew agreed. "He is...quite wealthy."

"Yes, very. So he's invited a bunch of our high school friends to come to the ball. He's having a pre-party in his suite at the St. Regis."

Veronica looked across at her father, and she could see a slight smile on his face as he listened to her end of the conversation. She hoped that meant he thought she was pulling it off.

"A...party, Veronica? I'm not sure..." Matthew was hesitant.

"Matthew, look. I'll be honest. I haven't told any of them that our engagement is off, not even Logan. It's a little embarrassing, so I'd rather wait until after the weekend."

As she said this, she rolled her eyes at her father and hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick. Keith smiled wryly.

"I see," Matthew said, no doubt equating her problem with his own. "Well, of course, we can't have you embarrassed in front of your old friends. I'm sure when they see my ring on your finger, your embarrassment will fade away."

"Thank you, Matthew," she said, drily. "I'm sure it will."

"So then what time shall I pick you up?"

Veronica felt a stirring of panic. With everything they'd thought of, they hadn't considered this at all.

"No need, Matthew," she improvised. "My...dad is actually in town. In fact, we're having breakfast right now at that cafe down the block from my apartment." She grimaced at Keith. This was getting more and more complicated.

"You're not at work?" Matthew asked.

"Uh, no. Took the day off to visit with Dad. He's, um, part of the reunion, too."

"Your...father is part of a reunion of your high school friends?"

Why hadn't she thought this out ahead of time? Veronica was starting to panic, but then inspiration struck.

"Yep. You know I've talked about my friend, Wallace? Well, his mother is my dad's girlfriend."

She shrugged at Keith apologetically as he choked on his last mouthful of tepid coffee.

"But she's not coming until tomorrow, so he's staying with me. So there's no need..."

"Don't be silly, Veronica. I'll pick both of you up. What time should I be there?"

Veronica was stymied. She'd tried, but she saw no way out of this. "About six, I guess," she said finally, conceding the point.

"Very well," he said, "and please tell your father I look forward to seeing him again."

"Yes, I will, Matthew," she said tonelessly, ending the call.

Veronica looked at her father sheepishly. "Sorry, Dad," she said.

Keith just shook his head at her. "I'm done," he said, indicating his empty plate.

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 _This is not a date_ , she had to keep reminding herself. _This is NOT a date. I'm just helping him out._

By the time Logan arrived to pick her up for their trip to Barney's, Veronica had changed her clothes three times. She'd been dressed in everyday jeans and a t-shirt when she suddenly remembered that she was not practical Veronica today, but instead that ditz, Amber. And Amber would never go into a store like Barney's wearing anything other than an _ensemble_.

Veronica had been rooting through her closet, trying to come up with some combination of clothing that looked like it might be Barney's-worthy. Her bed was now piled high with rejected outfits.

She'd finally settled on a pair of skinny jeans that she'd bought on impulse one day. She'd added a sheer pale pink blouse with a deep V neckline, and a pair of casual strappy sandals. When she'd looked in the mirror, the neckline had seemed a little...bare, so'd she filled it in with triple-strand of fake pearls that she'd had for at least 10 years.

Veronica took another look in the mirror and was finally satisfied. Mac had been with her on one of their rarer than rare shopping trips and had talked her into buying the blouse. Mac told Veronica that she needed at least one blouse in her wardrobe that would get her sent home by the judge if she wore it to court.

Veronica frowned suddenly. Still...maybe she was too...too...

She was considering whether to look for outfit number four when she glanced at the clock.

Shit! It was 10:40. Logan would be downstairs in five minutes and there was no place to park so she needed to be waiting for him. She'd tried to convince him it was nuts to drive in the city, but he said he had other errands to do later and would need the car. Veronica had told herself that she was _not, definitely not_ , disappointed that their day would be cut short by his other obligations.

 _This is not a date_ , she repeated to herself, saying goodbye to Keith and running out the door. _That will be my mantra today._

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When she exited the outside door, Veronica found Logan leaning up against his rental, which he'd parked nonchalantly in a No Parking zone. He hurriedly opened the car door for her, but there was nothing hurried at all in the once over he gave her. Logan raised his brows questioningly.

Veronica couldn't help the pink tinge that covered her cheeks. "Amber would wear this outfit," she explained, closing the door and buckling her seatbelt.

"Well, it looks great on Veronica, too," Logan smirked, settling into the driver's seat. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

They parked in a garage not far from Barney's and walked the rest of the way, reaching the evening wear section in the men's department at precisely 11 o'clock. Logan watched with some amusement as Veronica immediately shifted into "Amber mode."

Her mega-watt smile was in full evidence as she looped her arm through his and pulled herself as close to him as humanly possible without actually attaching herself to his body. Shopping was far from his favorite activity, but Logan thought he might just enjoy this particular trip.

They were wandering around aimlessly when a young man appeared, offering assistance. Before Logan could open his mouth, "Amber" spoke up.

"Oh," she said, in a tone that was halfway between supplicant and shrew, "we have an appointment with M. Antoine. My fiancé needs to buy a tuxedo for our wedding tomorrow."

The young man's lips pursed in a slightly disdainful expression. "Well, miss, I'm afraid that will be imposs..."

"Never mind, Sebastian," an older man emerged suddenly from a nearby doorway. "I have this one."

Sebastian's brows climbed so high that they threatened to mingle with his hairline, but he bowed in deference to the older man. "Of course," he said, backing away.

"Are you M. Antoine?" Veronica's alter ego gushed. "Thank you so much for helping us out. I'm Amber and, um, this is my fiancé, Logan."

M. Antoine had been so busy admiring the vision that was Veronica/Amber, that he had thus far paid no attention to her companion. He did so now, looking Logan over thoroughly, taking in the cut of his clothes, the quality of the material, and, with some admiration, the man himself.

"Well," he said finally. "WELL! I see!" M. Antoine walked all around Logan, peering at him from every angle, as though he were considering him for a modeling job.

Veronica gushed again, grinning idiotically. "Yes, isn't he just _yummy_?" she said. "Aren't I the luckiest girl ever?"

Logan's smirk became fixed. He wasn't sure which he was enjoying more, Veronica's acting or her admiring looks. Until it dawned on him that perhaps they were one and the same. He frowned.

"What's the matter, baby?" Veronica asked in her own voice, her brow wrinkling in concern.

"Nothing, _baby_ ," he answered, smiling suddenly. "Let's do this."

"And what style tuxedo were you thinking of, sir?" M. Antoine asked, removing Logan's jacket. But before Logan could utter even a single word, M. Antoine spoke again.

"Oh, my," he said. "With those shoulders, I see nothing but a high notched collar. _Nothing!_ "

M. Antoine was very emphatic in his opinions about clothing.

"I'll bring some out and you can try on the jackets," he said, pulling out a tape measure and applying it at various angles all over Logan's body. "If the jacket fits properly, it will be easier to alter the pants. Oh, yes," M. Antoine said enthusiastically, looking Logan over like he was a piece of finely-chiseled statuary. "My, my."

As soon as he left the room, Logan and Veronica burst into the giggles they had been holding in so admirably.

" _My, my_ ," Veronica repeated, howling with laughter.

"Shut up!" Logan barked at her. "You picked this place, _Amber_."

"Well, it was the only one -- sh! here he comes," she said, looking sideways at Logan and readying "Amber's" smile again.

"Here we are, sir," M. Antoine declared, wheeling in a garment trolley containing a half dozen tuxedos covered in heavy transparent plastic.

Logan approached the cart and perused the offerings, discarding two immediately. Veronica agreed. On one suit, the lapel was so extreme, it was in danger of falling into the "zoot suit" category. The other was double breasted, which Logan despised. The other four he agreed to try on. But none of them looked exactly...right.

"Well," M. Antoine considered. "There are some others in your size, but they may be a little...that is..." He stopped.

"Yes?" Logan prompted, annoyed. "They may be a little... _what?_ Are there other possibilities, or is this all you have?" He spoke with all the disdain and impatience of the wealthy, privileged individual that he was, although he rarely exhibited such behavior anymore.

"Um, baby," 'Amber' intervened suddenly. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" She smiled brightly, wrinkling her nose playfully at M. Antoine.

"Of course, Sugarpuss," Logan answered, ushering her to the far corner of the room.

"What?" he huffed, beginning to get irritated.

"Logan!" Veronica hissed at him. "What are you doing?" She gritted it out, her lips barely moving and her teeth clenched so tightly that Logan thought surely her jaw must be starting to ache.

"Do you want a new tuxedo that will be ready by tomorrow," she continued to upbraid him, "or would you rather just piss this guy off? Because he's doing us a favor and we're out of options if this doesn't work."

Logan sighed. "Well, what the hell is wrong with the guy?" he whined. "He's got other suits but he doesn't want to show them to me? Who's he saving them for, Prince Will?"

"Um, I think...no, actually I'm pretty sure, he's wondering if you can, um, afford them."

 _"What? Why?_ He knows who I am, doesn't he?" Logan never asked anyone for special treatment, but he was used to the fact that people recognized his name, and that would most definitely include anyone who was actually trying to sell him something. Of course, this was NorCal, so perhaps...

Veronica frowned. "It's _possible_ I didn't actually tell him your name when I made the appointment."

"Well, why the hell _not?_ " he asked, testily.

"Because," she hissed through clenched teeth, "I couldn't tell him you were my fiancé _and_ claim you were Logan Echolls. That might have raised some eyebrows. We could have been met here by a horde of paparazzi!"

"But what about when I pay the bill?" he asked reasonably. "He'd see the name on my credit card then."

"Yes," she agreed, still smiling brightly at M. Antoine, tapping his toe impatiently across the room. "But by then it would be too late!"

Logan considered a moment, then wheeled around, giving the store clerk his most ingratiating smile.

"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," he said, and watched as M. Antoine's face took on a resigned look.

"Of course," the man said. "Perhaps you might find something at, um, Macy's." He tried unsuccessfully to hide his disdain.

"Oh, I don't think you understand," Logan said. "The thing is..."

He approached the other man and spoke as if letting him in on a secret.

"The thing is," he began again, "I was thinking more of a designer tuxedo. Hugo Boss, Tom Ford..."

"Isaia!" M. Antoine exclaimed excitedly, all smiles now. "I know just the suit! Here, get these out of here," he barked to Sebastian, pointing to the trolley of rejected tuxedos. "And you," he spoke to Logan almost playfully, as if they'd shared a confidence, "don't you even move."

No more than two minutes later, M. Antoine had returned with another garment trolley bearing just three tuxedos this time.

"I brought out an assortment but I really think it's the Isaia that we're just going to love," he said in such an excited tone that Logan wondered exactly who was going to be wearing this suit.

M. Antoine removed the jacket of the Isaia tuxedo from its protective covering and slipped it onto Logan's shoulders, somehow managing to squeeze his left bicep in the process.

When the man stepped away to admire him from a distance, Logan sighed and said to Veronica out of the corner of his mouth,"You know, Woody Goodman felt me up like that once, too, and I can't say I enjoyed the sensation any more now than I did then."

Veronica's eyes widened. "What!" she said under her breath. "You never told me that!"

"My goodness! Something about 'early Logan' that Veronica doesn't know," he whispered, smirking. "It hardly seems possible."

"So what do you think, sir?" M. Antoine had been waiting patiently for a reaction, because really, how could the man not see that the jacket was perfection?

Logan glanced at himself in the mirror, shrugged his shoulders once or twice, looked at the inside of the jacket, checking the available pockets. He buttoned and unbuttoned the jacket a few times.

M. Antoine was mystified at the apparent failure of his first choice, and opened his mouth to offer one of the others.

"I'll take it," Logan said suddenly, in a tone that Veronica had never heard him use before. "But I need any alterations done immediately and it must be delivered to my suite at the St. Regis by noon tomorrow."

M. Antoine was about to discreetly inquire if the gentleman would wish to know the price of the ensemble, but then he heard "suite at the St. Regis" and mentally shrugged.

Logan laughed at the expression on Veronica's face and winked at her suddenly. "You like my 'rich asshole' voice?" he asked in a low tone, while she shook with silent glee.

M. Antoine asked Logan if he'd care to step into the dressing room to try on the pants, and Logan said he certainly would, but first he'd like to thank his beautiful fiancé properly for all her help.

"You did a great job taking care of this, baby," Logan exclaimed enthusiastically, pulling her suddenly into his arms. Before she could react, he had bent down and smacked her quickly but soundly on the lips.

It was over in a second, but Veronica blushed like a schoolgirl. Logan winked at her and said, "I knew we'd have fun today, Sugarpuss."

The jacket had fit almost perfectly, but the measurements for the alterations on the pants took longer than the entire selection process, and Veronica had all that time to think about what had just happened. She ran through a host of emotions, some of them twice. By turns she was excited, upset, elated, angry, embarrassed, thrilled, confused, and peeved. That last one was in the rotation when Logan finally emerged from the men's fitting room, and when he saw the expression on her face, he gave her a sheepish grin.

"I just have to pay the man, and then we can go," he said, trying to gauge her mood.

When Logan handed in his credit card, M. Antoine's eyes widened, and he shot a knowing look at Logan.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Echolls," he apologized profusely, practically simpering. "I had no idea you were _that_ Logan. And congratulations!"

Logan quirked a brow, forgetting for a moment his role in this well-scripted scene.

"On your marriage, I mean." Poor M. Antoine wondered if he were being a bit too forward, but he just couldn't help himself. "And may I say that Mrs. Echolls, that is of course the _future_ Mrs. Echolls...well, you're a lucky man."

Logan looked over at Veronica, sitting several feet away and blithely unaware of their conversation.

"That I am," he said, adding silently, _or at least I damn well will be soon_.

xxxxxxxx

They had no sooner returned to the car than Veronica eyed him accusingly.

Here it comes, he thought, already wincing in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he was expecting, and which he no doubt richly deserved. But she must have changed her mind, because silence reigned as he put the ticket into the slot and watched the arm rise, allowing them to exit the lot.

Logan was puzzled at first, until he realized that for her to chastise him about that kiss, to bring it up in any way at all, she'd have to talk about it. They'd have to discuss it. And apparently, they were just going to ignore it.

He sighed. "Where to?" he asked her.

Veronica turned to him in confusion. "I thought you had, um, some other errands. You can just drop me off if you want."

"And what if I don't want? Why don't we get some lunch? Although I'm a little overdone on the Italian this week, so maybe..."

"The mall," she said suddenly. "If you really have time," he nodded his agreement, "then I'd like to go to the mall. I need some shoes to go with my dress."

"Sure, okay," he said, frowning in confusion, "but why didn't you just look in Barney's?"

"Logan," she was shaking her head. He was still just as clueless as he'd ever been about some things. "I could never afford to buy shoes there. I'll just go to DSW."

With the help of some GPS magic, they were soon entering Veronica's favorite mall. She led him directly to the giant shoe retailer.

"DSW?" Logan asked, looking around at all the shoes on display. "What does that stand for?"

Veronica peered at him, shaking her head. Logan was nothing if not unpredictable. Why the hell did he want to know that?

"Uh, I think it's Designer Shoe Warehouse. Something like that. Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've just never been to a store like this before."

Veronica smiled in amusement.

"So, maybe I'll wander over to the men's side while you're trying on shoes," he said, sauntering off.

Veronica rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sometimes Logan's utter fascination when he found there was something that "regular folks" did that he knew nothing about was downright endearing. She watched him practically skipping down the aisles, making his way from running shoes toward the dress shoes.

In truth, Veronica had bought her shoes for the ball the same day she'd found the dress on the final sale rack at Nordstrom. But she'd opted for only two-inch heels, as she always did when dressing for Matthew, even though she knew the gown would look far better with a higher heel.

And maybe, she decided, she'd need that added height. Maybe she'd walk..or..or dance with someone who was a little taller than Matthew. Veronica very determinedly did NOT take inventory of the heights of Wallace, Weevil, Leo, or even her father. Goddammit! Maybe she'd be forced to dance with Dick. She couldn't possibly allow poor Mac to be stuck with him all night!

By the time she'd found just the right shoe, she saw Logan coming towards her, his arms filled with boxes and a huge smile on his face.

"How come nobody ever told me about this place before?" he asked, as Veronica just gaped at him.

"Are you taking all those?" she asked in wonder. Veronica could hardly believe it. Multi-millionaire Logan was buying out the off-price shoe store. She hoped there were no paparazzi around.

xxxxxxxx

They were still in the checkout line when a very distinct growl was heard from the vicinity of Veronica's stomach, and Logan smiled at her affectionately. "It's after one," he said. I think I should get you fed before you faint on me and I have to carry you out of this place. I couldn't handle you plus all my new shoes."

"Very funny," she said, but a few minutes later her mouth watered in anticipation, as they headed toward the food court and a dozen different tantalizing scents assailed her.

They were surrounded by their purchases, wolfing down burgers, when the memory hit him and Logan asked suddenly, "Do you remember? The last time we had lunch at the food court in the mall?"

For a long time, Veronica didn't answer, instead slowly chewing and swallowing her food. Logan gave himself a mental kick for speaking without fully considering where this memory might lead. He was afraid he'd gone too far, pushed her beyond some invisible boundary that she was unwilling to cross, by bringing up the one part of their shared past that she so clearly didn't want to discuss.

Then she smiled. "I do," she said carefully. "I..remember that as a..a happy day."

"Not too happy for Madison Sinclair, though," he said gleefully, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "And it seems like she's been stewing all these years, wondering exactly what it was she saw that day."

Veronica grinned suddenly. "Any day I can make Madison Sinclair crazy is a good day for me," she said, laughing.

"I don't know," Logan said, gathering up the remains of their lunches to toss away in the trash. "Sometimes spiteful gossips like Madison have their uses."

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"So are you going to tell everyone that you're wearing $89 dress shoes with your $4000 tuxedo?" Veronica asked as Logan stowed their purchases in the trunk.

He smirked at her. "As long as my feet don't know the difference, I don't think anyone else will care. And those shoes were damned comfortable. Better than my old ones."

Veronica just shook her head in amazement. Seventeen-year-old Logan would be appalled by his lack of condescension.

"So...um...I guess we're done?" Veronica was tentative. "I can direct you to my place from here."

Logan's face dropped. "You need to get back right now?" he asked.

Veronica had been a little nervous that Logan's errands might be personal in nature, that he might not want her around for them. But it seemed that was not the case, and her mood brightened considerably.

"No," she said immediately, sliding into the passenger seat. "What next?"

Logan closed the driver's side door and said hesitantly, "I...think we need to go to the supermarket."

"You...think? How much thinking can there be about a trip to the market?"

Logan looked a little sheepish.

"When was the last time you were at a supermarket, Logan?" Veronica asked doubtfully.

She remembered that during the short time that they'd lived together, he'd always uploaded their food order into the computer, and had almost anything they needed delivered. Under the circumstances, she hadn't minded. Her feet had often been swollen and sometimes her back ached, so she was just as glad to escape the marketing. There'd been quick trips to the convenience store, of course, for this and that, but never to one of those giant emporiums where you could get lost for days just trying to find the canned tuna.

"Um, I usually just get things delivered. I didn't mind the Sac 'n Pac, because it had just a few aisles, but it went out of business a couple of years ago. But those huge places..." He sighed.

Veronica looked over at the multi-millionaire who was even now plotting to thwart the plans of a Mexican drug cartel, and contemplated the mass of contradictions that was Logan Echolls.

"Logan," she asked gently, "are you telling me that you're... _afraid_ to shop in a supermarket?"

"Uh, not afraid exactly. It just doesn't feel...natural." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction, but she was smiling gently.

He laughed suddenly, seeing the absurdity of it. "You don't have to tell me how crazy this is. When I was a kid, I was a regular on the movie premiere circuit by the time I was eight. I had young actresses - some of them a lot older than me - throwing themselves at me by the time I was twelve. And I had my own car before I was old enough to even apply for a learner's permit."

He paused, shook his head. "But my mom never took me to the supermarket."

Logan sighed. "So it feels like it's something I'm not...I don't know...supposed to do." He looked at Veronica pleadingly, asking silently for her understanding at this further proof of his eccentricity.

As Veronica listened, she tried desperately not to think about the boy who had grown up privileged in so many ways, and yet was so deprived in others. She knew if she focused on the Logan whose childhood never included trips to the ice cream aisle to debate the merits of Rocky Road versus Chunky Monkey, she'd lose it. Why had she never realized how limited his experiences were in the world of everyday living?

She grinned instead, picking up his hand in both of hers, bringing it dramatically to her breast.

"As God is my witness," she said in her very best Scarlett O'Hara, "you will never again starve because you cannot buy food at the supermarket..."

He laughed, interrupting her. "I've never starved."

She pulled at his hand. "Shush," she said, and segued into Phillip Marlowe. "Stick with me, kid. I'll show you the ropes."

She placed Logan's hand on the steering wheel and buckled herself in. "Hit it, Echolls," she said. "You're in for the adventure of a lifetime."

xxxxxxxx

She'd finally wormed out of him that he actually had a list from Alicia Fennel, by way of Wallace, of items they needed to buy. When Veronica demanded to see the list, Logan pulled it out of his inside pocket with relief. He'd been worrying about it ever since he'd made it.

Veronica perused the list, and for the most part it was pretty straightforward. But there were a couple of items that baffled her.

She noticed that besides the food, there was something called a "jelly roll pan" on the list, and she asked Logan about it.

"So what's a jelly roll pan?" she asked idly, then laughed out loud at Logan's look of bewilderment. "Yeah, you're right," she said. "Why the hell am I asking you?"

Veronica sighed. "We'll figure it out," she said, pulling out her phone and typing "jelly roll pan" into the Google search bar. "Eureka!" Veronica exclaimed, feeling like an idiot, when images filled the screen. She gave Logan a quick look at the screen as he was driving.

"Aren't those cookie pans? Um, that doesn't sound quite right." He frowned.

"Yup. Cookie _sheets_. You must have some tucked away somewhere at the beach house," she added with a smile. "Unless you've...thrown them away?" Veronica's voice was hesitant.

Logan glanced at her briefly as he negotiated a turn. "I haven't thrown anything away, Veronica," he said softly. "I may have added a few things, but everything you used is still there, right where you left it."

Veronica looked out her window, assailed by a wave of emotion she couldn't seem to name. Was it...nostalgia? Longing? Homesickness? She shook her head at herself. It wasn't like her to be fanciful.

"I'm sure we can get those at the supermarket." She looked back at the list. "Plates? You have plates in the suite, right?"

Logan nodded. "In one of the cupboards."

"What about the rest of the food for the party?" Veronica asked suddenly, wondering if they'd forgotten something important.

Logan smiled. "Supermarkets may be a mystery, but caterers aren't," he said. "The hotel is taking care of it. I asked for the food to be delivered, but I said we'd serve ourselves. I didn't want anyone in the suite that I didn't know personally."

Veronica nodded. "Good plan." Logan may have been an affluent man, but he was also a clever one.

When they reached Veronica's favorite market, it didn't take them long to work through the list. Logan was overwhelmed by the variety offered in the spice aisle, where they picked up rosemary, basil, and oregano. Then it was on to the cheese section for fresh grated Parmesan and Romano, and finally they reached the canned goods, where they grabbed a couple of cans of diced tomatoes, and a jar of chopped garlic.

They'd even found the jelly roll pans in a section that also contained cupcake tins and pie plates. By the time they'd picked up a small bottle of olive oil, there was only one item left on the list and Veronica was still puzzling it out.

"Is this a commentary on the ease of preparation?" Veronica asked, frowning.

"Why? What does it say?"

"It says...it's quick." She looked at him inquiringly.

"Mm hmm." He looked at the list in her hand. "Pretty sure that's what Wallace said."

"But...that doesn't make sense. What is it that she's making?"

"Squares. Um, I think Wallace said Italian squares."

Veronica thought about the squares, with the savory spices, and the oil, tomatoes and cheeses, and...

Her burst of laughter was so sudden and so merry that Logan was sure the pressure was finally getting to her.

"Come on," she said, when she could speak again, dragging him back across the store. They were halfway up the baking aisle when she stopped suddenly and pulled a yellow and blue box down off the shelf to show him.

"Do you think he might have said Bisquick, Logan?" Veronica asked, her eyes twinkling.

Logan smiled. He'd forgotten all about Bisquick. There used to be a box of it in his own kitchen, and Veronica had used it to make pancakes.

"Isn't that pancake mix?" Logan asked.

"Oh, Logan," she said, grinning, dropping the box into their cart. "I think there are a lot of things I need to teach you about life among the commoners. And one of them is clearly the wonder that is Bisquick."

"Okay," he said, smiling in return and grabbing both her hands.

"Okay...what?" she asked.

"Teach me everything that I don't know. That ought to take, I don't know, a lifetime." He knew she'd been kidding and that he should just shut the hell up, but the words flew out before he could stop them.

When Veronica dared to look up at him, he was smiling at her with such affection that suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

_Why the hell does he have to look at me like that? He's going home in a couple of days, and I'm going to be left here trying to forget that look._

Veronica cleared her throat and tried for distraction. "What do you say we splurge and buy some ice cream?" she said, pulling her hands away from Logan's.

"A shocking request," he laughed.

As they headed toward the freezers, Veronica remembered her earlier speculations about Logan's childhood, and she turned to look at him. If she could've seen the look in her own eyes, she wouldn't have wondered why Logan's face softened so suddenly.

"What do you think?" she said when they reached the ice cream freezers. "Rocky Road or Chunky Monkey?"

Logan smirked. "Why have to choose?" he said, tossing a tub of each into the cart.

He looked around sadly. Now that he'd been introduced to the splendid offerings of the supermarket, he'd never be content with the convenience store again. But he'd have to wait until he got home to Neptune to buy everything he wanted. Logan sighed. He was pretty sure his next trip to the supermarket wasn't going to be half as much fun without Veronica.

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"Of course you have to come up," Logan said when they were finally back in the garage at the St. Regis. "How else are you going to to get your ice cream?"

"Is this how you entice women into your home?" Veronica asked as she stepped out of the car. "Ply them with promises of Rocky Road and Chunky Monkey?"

Logan grabbed the grocery bags from the back seat and they moved toward the bank of elevators.

"Rocky Road?" he responded. "Not so much. But when I offer them a taste of my Chunky Monkey..." He stopped and waggled his brows at her as they entered the elevator.

Veronica rolled her eyes and made a gagging sound, while Logan smirked. "Bad, Echolls, very, very bad," she chided him severely. But then she spoiled it by grinning, and by the time the elevator reached the penthouse floor, they were both laughing.

Veronica couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much or had such a carefree day. And this, with threats of personal danger hanging over her head. She'd finally stopped fighting it, her delight in just being around Logan Echolls again. Sometime that day, without her even being conscious of it, she'd simply decided to enjoy the moment and worry about everything else when he'd gone.

They put Alicia's ingredients away and stacked up the pans on the counter.

"What about...?" Veronica raised her brows and left the question unfinished.

"Ah," Logan said. "Thanks for the reminder." He unzipped an inside pocket in his jacket and took out a small plastic bag.

"Oh, my god, you had that on you all day?" Veronica didn't know whether to be amused or appalled.

"Yep. I didn't want to leave it in the car."

Logan looked around for a place to stash it until Alicia could make use of it, finally opting for the bedside table. Except to take Veronica home later, he had no plans to leave the suite.

"Ice cream," Veronica reminded him. "I was promised a, uh, taste of Chunky Monkey," she said with a smirk.

He pulled out bowls and spoons and soon they were sitting comfortably on the couch.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Logan asked. "This place has a pretty good selection."

Veronica called her dad to let him know she'd be out a while longer.

"Don't worry about me," Keith said, crossing his fingers. "I've got a book and the TV for company."

"Are you sure?" she asked, little tendrils of guilt beginning to swirl through her head.

"I'm sure," Keith said hastily, happy that she was finally allowing herself to enjoy Logan's company.

They watched two movies, ordering dinner from room service in between. Veronica had removed her shoes and was feeling pleasantly drowsy. They'd drifted closer and closer to each other during the second movie, a horror film. By the halfway point, Veronica was peeking through her fingers and Logan had thrown an arm around her, pulling her against him.

"We can stop it if you want," he said, smiling.

"No, no, I'm enjoying it," Veronica insisted.

Logan pulled her even closer until she was practically sitting in his lap. He chuckled inwardly at how nervous he was to have his arm around her like this, considering that the woman wrapped up in his embrace was his wife.

Logan sighed.

"What's the matter?" Veronica asked, picking up the remote and muting the volume.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "I just can't remember when I've had such a nice day."

"Me, too," she agreed, seeming to notice for the first time how very close they were sitting. Seeming to feel for the first time the weight of his arm around her slim shoulder. Veronica looked into his eyes, the ones that were full of affection and happiness, and she suddenly couldn't breathe. She didn't want to move, except to get closer to Logan, and she was swamped by those same old sensations.

Logan must have seen something in her eyes, because his lips curved into a smile and his free hand reached up to caress her cheek and move a stray hair behind her ear.

"Veronica," he breathed, his eyelids lowering as he focused on her lips, and how very close they were.

Veronica took a little breath, and moved her hand into his hair. He pulled her even closer, and the air between them vibrated with expectation.

The knock on the door was loud and it startled them both. Veronica blinked and Logan swore under his breath.

"What the fuck?" he complained, hoping whoever it was would just go away.

But the knock came again, louder and more insistent.

"Who the hell is that?" he said, getting up finally to see who had ruined his moment, the one he'd been hoping for all day.

Logan had almost made it to the door when the knock came a third time.

"Hold your fucking horses," Logan muttered, opening the door.

"Dude! I was beginning to wonder if you were even here." His voice boomed through the open doorway.

"I'm here, Dick," Logan sighed. "The real question is, what the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

"Decided to come tonight," he said, moving past Logan into the room. "Couldn't wait. Changed the ticket to the 9 p.m. flight and here I am! I tried to get them to give me the room you booked for tomorrow night, but someone was in it and they didn't have another one. But I knew you wouldn't mind putting me up for one night on the..."

It was at this point in his monologue that Dick Casablancas's eyes made contact with the piece of furniture on which he hoped to spend the night and noticed that it was occupied.

"Ronnie! Oh, shit!" Dick turned to Logan with an apology in his eyes. "Sorry, bro. I can go to another hotel. It's not a problem."

Veronica got up from the couch, pulling on her shoes, and moved to intercept him. "Don't be silly, Dick," she said. "you're here now, and anyway, I was just leaving."

"Veronica," Logan said, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice. "You don't have to go. Please stay."

"Hell, no, Ronnie! Sorry for barging in. Let me just call..."

Veronica smiled at Dick and held out her hand. "Thanks for doing this, Dick," she said when he grabbed it. "I know you didn't have to come all the way from Neptune just to help me out. We were never exactly the best of friends."

Veronica had barely got that out when she found herself enveloped awkwardly in Dick's hug.

"Oof," she said, as he patted her back and shoulder before letting her go.

"Hell, Ronnie. We've had our moments. Maybe more than a few. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't help you out of a jam. And besides, if anything happened to you, they might as well go for Logan, too, because he'd just be gone, anyway."

Dick had not learned tact over the years, she decided. He beamed at both of them as they tried to avoid each other's embarrassed glance.

Veronica picked up her handbag and headed for the door. When Logan started to follow, she looked at him inquisitively.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Logan looked baffled. "What do you mean? I'm going to drive you home."

"No!" Her negative reaction was so immediate and so emphatic that Logan was taken aback.

"What?" he said in disbelief. "You think I'm letting you...I don't know...take the bus?" She could hear the undertone of anger just below the surface.

"I'll be fine in a taxi," she insisted. Veronica knew she couldn't let him drive her home. After what had almost happened on the couch not five minutes before, she knew she was far too vulnerable. Far too susceptible. She just couldn't be alone with him right now. They stared at one another in silence, but Veronica could have sworn he knew exactly what she was thinking.

He finally pulled out his phone, scrolled down his contact list and pressed the screen.

"Hi, Keith," he said when the the call was picked up. "Veronica's ready to go home, but she doesn't want me to take the car out. So I'm...willing to put her into a taxi, as long as you're downstairs to meet the taxi at your end."

His voice was clipped and uninflected as he spoke to Keith. Veronica saw him nod once before he said, "Thanks, Keith."

She felt like a six-year-old being passed between two estranged parents, and her hackles started to rise. She and Logan left the suite and took the elevator down to the lobby. They stood in silence the entire trip, and Veronica couldn't help but compare it to the ride up just a few hours earlier, when there'd been jokes and laughter. And flirtation.

They reached the ground floor, and still Logan said nothing to her as they crossed the lobby and made their way out the door to the taxi stand in front of the hotel. They didn't have to wait long. A cab pulled up almost immediately, and Logan opened the back door, bundling her in and giving the driver her address.

Veronica knew she had every right to be annoyed. Surely she could take a short taxi ride from the St. Regis to her apartment without an escort, without...special handling. She glanced up at Logan's face as he shut the door, and saw his determination to keep her safe.

And as she had done the last time he put her into a taxi - dear god, was it only a week ago? - she asked the driver to wait, while she stepped back onto the sidewalk to face Logan.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you're only trying to take care of me." Veronica sighed. "This was the best day I've had in a long time, and I...don't want it to end like this."

Before she could stop herself, before she could even think about what the hell she was doing, Veronica reached up and caressed Logan's cheek. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head down. Then she lifted her head and her lips moved across his in a soft kiss. It was not a deep or passionate kiss, but neither was it a peck. Her lips caressed his for three, four, five seconds while Logan's eyes fluttered shut and his hand moved lightly through her hair. And then she pulled back and smiled at him.

"Goodnight, Logan," she said softly. She'd stepped back into the taxi and was gone before he could even react.

When Logan returned to the suite, Dick fell all over himself apologizing once again.

"Shit, Logan," he said. "If I'd had any idea Ronnie was here..."

"Never mind, Dick," Logan said, his anger evaporated. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Dude! If I hadn't come in, you and Ronnie, maybe you would have... Christ, Logan, she's still your wife and I know how you feel about her."

Logan nodded, sighed. "You're right, Dick," he agreed. "Maybe something would have happened. I think...I think we both wanted it to."

Logan paused, trying to figure out how to explain it to Dick.

"The thing is, I don't want Veronica to just want to sleep with me. I don't want her to...jump into my bed and be sorry about it five minutes, or an hour, or a week later. I want her to want to _be_ with me." He smiled slightly at the bafflement on Dick's face. "I want her to want to _stay_ with me."

Dick stared at Logan as though he were speaking a foreign language, and Logan chuckled and shook his head.

"Blankets and stuff are in that cabinet, Dude. I'll see you in the morning."


	17. Part II - Chapter 12

Inevitable - Part II Chapter 12

_Saturday Morning 6 a.m._

She'd already been awake for a full twenty minutes, just lying there watching her bedside clock tick off the seconds.

Alicia knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Here she was, almost 52 years old, and she couldn't sleep because later that day she'd be seeing an old boyfriend whom she'd barely spoken to in a decade. And the whole thing was a fix-up engineered by her son.

With a sigh, she got up finally and made her way into the kitchen, where she slipped a pod into the Keurig, and bread into the toaster. She watched as the brewed coffee streamed into her cup, and when her toast popped up, she buttered it slowly, methodically. Breakfast in hand, Alicia sat and thought about the woman whose welfare was the impetus for this trip, a woman who had been only a girl when Alicia had first known her.

Not that Veronica Mars had ever seemed like a kid.

In the beginning, Alicia had misunderstood her son's relationship with Veronica. She was used to Wallace's buddies hanging around, but they'd always been gangly teenage boys who tripped over the furniture and ate every morsel of food in the house, not delicate-looking blondes with bad reputations, who flashed her son on the living room couch.

Alicia chuckled, thinking about that particular memory. It had been just one more reason to worry about Wallace's apparent infatuation with the girl. Alicia sipped her coffee and remembered the day she'd warned Wallace about going "too far" with a girl like Veronica Mars.

"Say, what?" he'd said, practically gagging on the spot. "There ain't nothin' like that _ever_ gonna happen between me and Veronica, Ma! We're friends! And I know you think you got reasons for thinkin' there's somethin' wrong about Veronica, or her family, but _you're_ wrong. If I could only have one good friend at Neptune High, I'd want it to be _her_."

She'd stood there gaping, wondering what it was about this girl that made her son such a staunch friend. But then she'd met Keith, and she'd soon discovered that whatever was in the girl's genes that inspired such affection and such loyalty, she'd gotten directly from her dad.

Alicia's thoughts drifted from Veronica to her father. She'd been pleasantly surprised when he'd called, hadn't anticipated that courtesy. After all, she'd been the one to end their relationship all those years ago, and she'd had...regrets.

But there was no point in worrying about all that. The only thing that really mattered now was keeping Veronica safe. Alicia smiled, thinking about how shocked Wallace had been when she'd agreed to do the "baking project." He always seemed to forget that she'd had a life before she'd become his mom.

She grinned, thinking about her college years, when she'd gotten the recipe for the Italian Savory Squares in the first place. For the past thirty years she'd made them without the special added ingredient, but she was pretty sure she hadn't forgotten how to make the original version.

xxxxxxxx

_Saturday Morning 6:15 a.m._

Wallace twisted his head from side to side, trying to get away from the torturous drops of water. Who were they? What did they want? The password to the copier in the teachers' lounge? No, that couldn't be it. The Castle had jolted him with electric shocks. Is that who this was? Would that be their next...

"Wallace Fennel!" a voice yelled. What the hell, they knew his name?

A wet rag hit him in the head, and a very irritated female appeared as his eyes suddenly flew open.

"Em! What are you _doin'_?" The wet cloth fell off his head and onto his chest as he sat up. His head was a little fuzzy, but his vision was clear. Emily Taylor, beautiful as always, stood right in front of him, hands on her hips in annoyance.

"I've been trying to wake to you up for fifteen solid minutes! What the hell is wrong with you, Wallace? We have to be at your mom's in like ten minutes, so I hope..."

The rest of Emily's words were lost on Wallace as he leaped out of bed, raced into the bathroom and jumped into the shower, brushing his teeth as the warm water poured over him. Thank god they'd packed the night before. If he was late picking up his mom there'd be hell to pay. It wasn't wise to screw around with Alicia Fennel's schedule.

Five minutes later, Wallace was throwing on jeans and a t-shirt and shoving his feet into a comfortable pair of shoes. Emily had watched his entire performance from the comfort of the living room couch, a cup of coffee in one hand and a blueberry muffin in the other. She pointed at her watch. "Six twenty-two, Wallace," she said with a frown. "I'll pour your coffee into the travel mug."

"Thanks, Em," he said gratefully, throwing his grooming kit into the suitcase, zipping it shut, and wheeling it over to the front door, where Emily's case had stood alone in silent censure for the past fifteen minutes.

Wallace looked at his watch. Six twenty-six. He prayed there wouldn't be much traffic at this hour on a Saturday and that they'd hit every green light. Because if he was more than five minutes late picking up his mother, he'd hear about it all weekend long.

_Saturday Morning 8:15 a.m. San Diego International Airport._

Alicia Fennel made careful plans and followed them with the precision of a Marine drill instructor, so Wallace got to the airport in plenty of time. Leo D'Amato and his fiancée, Lisa Chang, also made it with time to spare, but they'd only had to drive across the city. Wallace and Leo hadn't seen each other in years, but they were both friendly guys and introductions had been made with ease.

Emily and Lisa hit it off immediately. Both had come in support of the men in their lives, so it would seem to follow that neither should have had a personal stake in the well-being of Veronica Mars. But as it happened, that wasn't the case at all.

Emily had been dying to meet Veronica ever since Wallace had told her about his first day at Neptune High. (And that was really how he'd known that Emily was "the one," because he'd never, ever shared that particular story with anyone else.) But Wallace had never mentioned Veronica's relationship with Logan Echolls. As it turned out, there were a lot of things he hadn't known about that himself.

When he'd come home on Wednesday night to explain it all to Emily, he'd been forced to recount the entire saga. Emily had been, well...enthralled was not too strong a word. Star-crossed relationship. Murder mysteries. Mortal enemies turned passionate lovers. On-again off-again romance with multiple variations. And then the parts that Wallace had only just learned about - a secret marriage, a thwarted divorce, a 'connected' fiancé, and a dangerous drug cartel.

It was like a novel! No, it was better than any novel Emily had ever read. She'd known Logan almost as long as she'd known Wallace, and while he'd always been pleasant and friendly, he'd also seemed a little sad. And his women! One sleek, brittle bitch after another. It had seemed to Emily that he only dated women he knew he could never develop any feelings for. So when Wallace had finally explained about Logan and Veronica, it had all suddenly made sense.

Lisa Chang had also heard the story from Leo that same night, but from a slightly different perspective. Leo and Veronica had once dated, even if it had only been for about ten minutes, and his history with Logan was even trickier. Once upon a time he'd arrested Logan - and a mere six months later he'd been conspiring with him to commit a felony.

Leo had never discussed his theft of the Lilly Kane tapes with anyone except Keith Mars. He'd certainly never told Lisa, and he hadn't wanted to tell her now. But Leo knew that she deserved some explanation about why he owed so much to Keith Mars, about why he was willing to go so many extra miles to help the Mars family. Once he'd started, once he'd told her that much, the rest just poured out. The Kane case, Logan's arrest for the murder of Felix Toombs, and his subsequent exoneration.

Leo hadn't known much about the ups and downs of the turbulent relationship between Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars, but he'd been there at the beginning, and he'd learned some of the later story from Logan himself on his recent visit. He'd had to read between the lines to figure out the rest. Leo D'Amato was, after all, a first class detective.

Leo had given Lisa the shorthand version of the lovers' saga, but by the time he'd gotten  
to the brief marriage, the divorce that never was, and the drug cartel, her mouth was hanging open. It had all seemed larger than life to Lisa Chang.

"And I'm going to meet these people?" she'd asked, her voice squeaking with excitement.

"Only if you want to," Leo responded. He didn't consider that there'd be any danger, but still, maybe she wouldn't...

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this for anything!" Her eyes lit up in anticipation.

Leo's brows rose when he perceived her level of enthusiasm.

"Do you think they might get back together?" she asked then, practically swooning over the great romance between two people she'd never met. Two people she'd never even heard of before that evening.

 _"What?"_ Leo asked, amazed by the extent of her interest. "How the heck should I know?"

"I hope so," she sighed breathily. And then her eyes narrowed and her focus shifted. "Guess I'll have to shop for a dress tomorrow."

Leo had laughed and rolled his eyes. _Women._

So within a very few minutes of being introduced at the airport, Emily and Lisa were talking like old friends, discussing their imminent meeting with the fascinating Veronica Mars.

Wallace was checking his watch for the tenth time and wondering how he'd explain Weevil's absence to Logan, when the Navarros finally came scurrying down the hallway toward the gate.

"Where the hell you been?" he asked testily.

"Yeah, sorry," Weevil said. "Princess Lucinda picked today to be fussy about where her breakfast came from. Couldn't wait five minutes for _abuela_ to give her a bottle."

Wallace looked at him in horror. "I definitely don't need to be hearin' about _that_!" he said.

Emily looked up from her conversation with Lisa. "Some dad you'd make," she said, amused.

It was five minutes later when they were in the boarding line that Weevil looked around suddenly and asked, "So where the hell is surfer dude?"

"That's it!" Wallace announced. "I'm not spending my weekend keeping track of Dick Casablancas."

_9 a.m. Saturday Morning_

Today's the day!

It was the first thing she'd thought when she'd woken up. Today was the day she'd get to see old friends, some of whom she hadn't been in touch with in years. Today was the day that she would ensure that Matthew Garcia would never be California's Attorney General. And today was the last day she'd have to pretend to be his fiancée.

Today was also the day that unknown forces were going to try to end her life. The day that her friends would form a tight cordon around her so that that couldn't happen. They'd see to it. Her dad would see to it. Logan would see to it.

Logan would never let anything happen to her.

Veronica sighed. She wasn't suddenly going all girly-girl, she told herself. She wasn't in need of a glass slipper, or true love's kiss, or any of that other Disney princess bullshit. If there were any glass slippers to be created, she wanted to be the glassblower. And as for true love's kiss? She knew that it was a fantasy, that true love didn't, couldn't, solve everything.

But while Veronica...resisted...the idea that she needed to be rescued, she knew that this time she couldn't handle it alone. What she needed, to paraphrase The Beatles, was a little help from her friends.

It warmed her heart to know that she was getting it.

But what had surprised her the most wasn't the brilliant plans they'd concocted, or the way her friends had come through for her when she needed them. She and Logan were clever, so it stood to reason that they'd make clever plans. And her friends? Veronica had always known they were the greatest.

Nope, the really surprising thing was that Logan had wanted to help her, had had the means to make it happen, and she had let him. She had let him. She'd shed just enough of her independence to hold out her hand when she was drowning and allow him to be her life raft. To lean on him maybe just a little.

Veronica smiled. Of course, he was getting something in return, she reasoned. Little life lessons. How to take advantage of that shopping mecca known as the off-price store. How to understand the inner workings of a mega-supermarket.

How to debate the merits of Rocky Road versus Chunky Monkey.

Her cheeks burned as she recalled their R-rated flirtation of the day before. Only Logan could turn a discussion about ice cream into something...kinky. And the way he'd smirked afterwards, so pleased with himself. She laughed aloud, remembering.

Veronica turned over, hugging her body, closing herself into a tight ball. She shivered as she recalled the end of their evening. Oh, god, what if Dick hadn't shown up to interrupt them? Pointless to speculate, because she already knew the answer. She smiled wryly, pondering the irony of being saved from her own lustful longings by Dick Casablancas.

She suspected that Logan knew very well why she wouldn't let him drive her home, but he hadn't said a word, had just called her dad and gotten her a taxi. He'd swallowed his disappointment, and accepted that she was putting some distance between them. Veronica huffed a little laugh. In the end, it was she who couldn't let it go, she who couldn't leave it alone, because she'd wanted it, wanted that physical contact, so badly.

She'd gotten out of the taxi and kissed him.

Veronica remembered the kiss, and groaned, but whether from embarrassment or thwarted desire, she wasn't really sure. It had been such a brief kiss, just a brush or two across his lips. Soft, so soft. But she'd felt him respond, felt his hand in her hair, and knew she was only a hairsbreadth away from wrapping herself around his body on the busy San Francisco street and deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

Veronica closed her eyes and moaned. She wasn't sure how the hell she was going to make it through the evening.

_10:30 a.m. Saturday Morning. San Francisco International Airport_

For the entire ninety minute flight, Wallace had been rehearsing just how he was going to tell Logan that Casablancas had missed the plane. He _knew_ he should have arranged to pick the idiot up that morning. But, hell! Everyone knew he'd been crushing on Mac for a while now. No way had he thought Dick would pass up the opportunity to actually date her.

So when they made their way to Baggage Claim and the first person he saw was Dick Casablancas, Wallace had to clench his fists to keep himself from hitting Dick upside the head. If his mother hadn't been right there...

And the big, blond, surfer doofus actually had the nerve to grin at him. That did it! Wallace stepped forward, determination on his face, but he felt two arms pulling him back, Alicia on his left and Emily on his right. So he contented himself with a reprimand, even though he figured it would go right over Dick's head.

"Dick!" he said, in the best 'Mr. Fennel' voice he could muster. "Where the hell've you been?"

Dick was puzzled. "Whaddya mean? I've been right here. Where should I have been?"

Wallace gathered together every shred of patience that he possessed, but there wasn't a lot left over after a week of teaching math at Neptune High.

"When did you get here, Dick?" he asked reasonably. "We were all worried when you didn't show up this morning."

A look of puzzlement lit Dick's face. "Should I have let you know I was coming up last night?"

And suddenly, all the anger left Wallace, just drained right out of him, and he shook his head.

Alicia spoke up then. "Wallace was just worried, Dick. We all were when you weren't at the airport this morning. But you're here now, and that's what counts," she added, giving her son a pointed look.

"Wallace, Dude, hey I'm sorry I didn't let you know I changed my flight. Usually...well, usually no one gives a shit if I show up or not. Or where the hell I am. Except maybe Logan."

"Yeah, well I care," Weevil said suddenly. "I care that you not make us worry about you. I ain't got time to worry about you, I got too many other things to worry about. So don't pull that sh..uh, crap again," he added with a sidelong glance at Alicia.

Dick Casablancas was stunned. He spoke up suddenly while they were all still standing around the baggage carousel.

"Listen up, people," Dick said. "I am sincerely sorry if anyone worried about me today. Like when I didn't show up at the airport. Which I couldn't have because I was already here. Came last night."

They all looked up silently, as if waiting for the grand finale. Dick cleared his throat.

"So, um, that's all." That was what he should do, wasn't it? Apologize? He reminded himself to tell Mac that this common sense thing wasn't always so easy to figure out.

Lisa Chang looked at her fiancé with a puzzled frown. "Who's that?" she asked quietly.

Leo grinned. "There may have been a few things that I left out of the story. Maybe a few people, too. I'll fill you in later," he added, as they made their way to their waiting transportation.

"This is what's taking us back to the hotel?" Lisa asked, stunned, when she saw the limo that Logan had hired to pick them all up at the airport. She thought she'd been prepared for this outing among the rich and notorious, but apparently she wasn't.

"That it is, lovely lady whom I don't know," Dick said, grinning. "You must be Deputy Leo's lady friend," he added.

"Deputy...?" Lisa looked at Leo and quirked a questioning brow.

Leo smiled and shook his head. Casablancas didn't appear to have changed at all in the last decade.

"Dick Casablancas," Leo said, offering his hand to Dick. "It's actually Detective Leo these days, and the lovely lady is my fiancée, Lisa."

"Welcome, fiancée Lisa," Dick said with a grin, pulling her into a quick hug.

Lisa laughed, thinking that the explanation might take longer than she'd anticipated.

"This guy, this...Dick..." she muttered to Leo under her breath, once they were all seated in the limo, "he's part of the...uh...undercover operation to keep Veronica safe?" The question was simple, but the expression on her face said that someone, somewhere, whoever was in charge of planning, had lost his mind.

Leo erupted in that boyish, good-humored laugh that Lisa so loved. The laugh that said that he was really, really tickled about something.

"You have no idea what these people are capable of, Lise," he told her softly, wrapping an arm around her reassuringly. "They aren't always exactly what they seem."

_11:15 a.m. Saturday Morning St. Regis Hotel_

When they reached the hotel, the travelers checked in and splintered off to their individual rooms. Logan, long familiar with the ways of large hotels, had arranged for early check-ins for his party. He wanted them to be able to relax in the comfort of their rooms and have a little time to themselves before things got...busy.

Damned if he knew what couples did when they were traveling together, he thought. It had been so long since he'd been one-half of that kind of a relationship. Maybe they'd want to just hole up in their rooms and...

Then he remembered the couples all lived together. Still, he recalled very clearly that he and Veronica had been living together the last time he'd visited San Francisco. And yet, the very first thing he'd wanted to do when they'd arrived at the Four Seasons was to drag her into the bedroom and make love to her.

Logan realized all of a sudden that this was the first time in six years that he'd recalled a happy memory about that ill-fated visit to San Francisco. Some part of the trip that didn't begin with him waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Veronica moaning in her sleep.

Images of their lovemaking, the very last time they'd ever been together, played out in his head. He hadn't allowed himself to think about that...ever. But he closed his eyes now and recalled how it had been, tender and passionate all at once. They'd been so in love, he'd been so in love, that he'd scarcely been able to express to Veronica just how strongly he felt about her.

They'd both been so damned happy that he'd often wondered why it had taken Mac so long to figure it out. His breath caught when he suddenly recalled the words that Veronica had murmured to him in the last truly happy moments of his life. _She'd told Mac that she loved me._ He remembered his shock that she'd been so open about it.

He'd lain there beside her and thought about all the feelings that he knew Veronica was holding inside. And been so sure that if he could just get her to open up a little bit more, if she could just be persuaded to let a few of those feelings out...

He'd been so certain that when the baby arrived, Veronica would just explode with it. All those emotions - all that love - that she kept such a tight rein on, would be let loose, and would just fill him up, him and the baby. It had been his last coherent thought before he'd fallen asleep. Before he'd woken up a few hours later to find that his world had crumbled.

 _Shit_ , he thought now, feeling himself tear up. _I haven't let myself think about this stuff in years._

Not even when he'd found out that he and Veronica were still married had he let himself remember the earlier hours of their San Francisco honeymoon. Because to dwell on the sweetness of those first few happy hours had been just too painful.

Logan's thoughts were interrupted by a very tentative knock on his door. He shook his head, thinking it was perhaps just as well. A moment later, he opened the door to a smiling Alicia Fennel.

"Mrs. Fennel, please come in," he said warmly, stepping aside to allow her into the suite.

"Wow!" she said looking around. "I thought my room was luxurious, but look at this place. You know, Logan," she added, looking at him with a smile, "in all the time I've known you, this is the first time I've seen you act like a rich man."

"Yeah, well, money doesn't guarantee that good things will happen to you, no matter how long you wait," he replied with a wry smile. "But it does guarantee that you'll be waiting in comfort."

Alicia laughed. "Can't argue with that," she said. "So where's the kitchen? Did you get everything on my list?"

"Right over here." Logan replied, leading the way.

Alicia inventoried the purchases and nodded her head. "Good job. I wasn't sure if you'd have easy access to a market while staying in this kind of place."

"Oh," he said casually, "Veronica took me to her supermarket. Otherwise I might have had some problems." He laughed ruefully. "Not too used to supermarkets, and as for Bisquick..." He scratched his head.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not surprised," Alicia said, smiling, as she scoured the cabinets for a large bowl and some plates. "Can you open these for me?" she asked, indicating the cans of diced tomatoes.

"Yeah, pretty sure I can handle a can opener," he said self-deprecatingly.

"Hmmm." She frowned suddenly.

"What's the matter?" Logan just knew he must have screwed up. "What did I forget."

"Nope," she said, " not you. But...all these plates are white. They're all the same."

Alicia frowned, continuing to rummage, as Logan watched with a puzzled look on his face.

"Aha!" she said finally, pulling out a platter in the same simple white style, but oval rather than round. "If we can't do color, then we'll do shape."

Logan leaned against the counter, crossed his arms, and gave himself over to bemusement.

"I can't wait to hear this explanation," he said.

"Come on, Logan," Alicia said with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. "We have to make two batches of these, or else Mr. Garcia might wonder why he's the only one eating them. So...one with, and one without. But we have to be able to tell which is which. I was going to put them on different colored plates, but this will work, I think."

Logan broke into a grin. "You know, I wondered where Wallace got his craftiness. The things he and Veronica used to pull..."

"Please," she said with a laugh, "I don't think I want to know."

Alicia decided to make the "with" version first, and it was only after it began to bake that they realized what they had neglected to take into consideration. As the savory squares baked, the suite began to fill with the succulent aroma of oregano, rosemary and garlic. But those smells were overlaid by the very pungent and easily identifiable odor of burning marijuana.

"Oh, no!" Alicia said, "I forgot about that!"

Just as Logan let out a panicked, "Oh, shit!"

He opened all three of the windows in the suite, as well as the slider to the balcony. "At least we're so high up that no one should be able to smell it. And it is San Francisco." He paused. "But...I think we need to make damn sure we get rid of that smell," he said.

Logan pulled out his phone. "Dick," he said when the call went through. "Get your ass up here now. We have a problem."

Dick was uncharacteristically reluctant. "Dude," he said, "I'm, uh, well...I'd thought about maybe going over to see Mac, bringing her some flowers or..."

"Dude! Emergency! You can make your grand gestures later."

"Okay, okay!" Dick said. "Be right there."

When Dick arrived, it took him only a moment to figure out what had panicked Logan. He'd had plenty of experience baking with the product, but never where it was sprinkled on top like an herb.

"What if I go out and buy a couple of fans?" he said practically.

Logan nodded. "Just what I was thinking. Take one of the limos. Ask the driver to take you to the nearest..."

He stopped and looked inquiringly at Alicia.

"Home improvement store, or maybe a Target," she said, answering his unspoken question. "Get the biggest ones you can carry easily. At least two, I think."

Dick was off in a flash, and by the time he returned a half hour later, Alicia had put the second pan in the oven. "I'm putting these red toothpicks all over the "with" batch," she said. "Whatever you do, don't remove them."

"Did you bring those from home?" Logan asked, smirking. When she nodded, he just shook his head. Alicia Fennel was quite a surprise. No wonder Keith had been so nervous.

They placed the fans in front of the slider, setting them up to maximize the air flow from inside to outside.

"So can I go now?" Dick asked tentatively. "I still have that, uh, errand."

"Errand, huh?" Logan was amused. "Look, if you're going to Mac's, why don't you bring her back with you? I need to go over some things with her before the planning meeting. Have her bring all her stuff with her. I got her a room here for the night so she won't have to keep going back and forth."

Dick blinked. "Mac's staying here tonight?"

Logan laughed at the expression in his friend's face. "Down, boy," he said. "She has her own room, just like you do." He looked at Dick pointedly. "She's only agreed to spend the evening with you, Dick, not the night."

And then Logan saw something that he'd never, ever seen in the sixteen years that he'd known Dick Casablancas. A slow blush rose across Dick's face and made its way to the roots of his light blond hair.

"Do you think I'm a complete idiot, Logan?" Dick muttered. "I know she doesn't want that. It's just that...she'll be here, in the hotel. We both will be." Dick sighed. "Never mind," he added as he walked toward the door. "We'll be here by two-thirty."

Alicia had watched the exchange with a sympathetic smile. "Wallace told me that Dick had a bit of a crush on Mac," she said, "but I didn't know it was as bad as that."

"Neither did I," Logan said thoughtfully.

They moved to the living room and sat on the couch to wait for the "without" batch to finish baking.

"Can I get you something," Logan asked politely. "Some coffee? Something stronger?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, I'd love something stronger, but it's already been a long day and it's just going to get longer," she said with a smile, "so I guess maybe I should stick to coffee for now."

Logan picked up the house phone to ask Room Service for coffee. "How about some lunch?"

Alicia considered, nodded. "You can get me a salad."

Their lunches arrived just as Alicia was taking the second batch of squares out of the oven. Logan met the waiter at the door and wheeled the cart into the room himself. He was taking no chances with any of the hotel staff figuring out what they were doing.

"Let's eat," he said, just as Alicia finished putting green toothpicks into the "safe" batch.

They moved to the small dining table, where Alicia regaled Logan with the story of how she'd gotten the original recipe for the "savory" squares. Logan had always liked Wallace's mom, had always figured she was what a "real" mom would be like. But by the time she finished her story, Logan had seen a whole new side to Alicia Fennel, one he hadn't expected.

"Has Wallace heard this story, Mrs. Fennel?" Logan asked with a smirk.

Alicia laughed. "No, I think it's better if Wallace keeps his illusions about his mother. And I also think if we're going to be criminal co-conspirators, maybe you should start calling me 'Alicia'."

"Thanks," he said. "I'd be honored. And not nearly as terrified as I was when Keith asked me to call him by his first name. At the time, I had trouble just saying 'Mr. Mars'." He smiled.

Alicia nodded. "Yes, he can be a little...intimidating. I've seen him in action." She paused. "When did he ask you to call him 'Keith'?" she asked curiously. "Was it during your brief marriage to Veronica?"

He hadn't thought about it in years, but as soon as she asked the question, the memory came flooding back. _I think you'd better call me Keith, Logan. Can't have_ _the father of my grandchild addressing me as though we were barely acquainted._ Keith had said it with a smile.

But in the end, there'd been no grandchild for Keith Mars, nothing that would tie him to Logan after all. Maybe it was being in this city with all its buried memories, he thought, as he struggled to control yet another surge of emotion.

"Not exactly," Logan said softly, his face reflecting a sadness that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Alicia saw the look and felt a sudden apprehension. What sorrow had he just recalled? What additional misery, that she had never heard about, had befallen Logan Echolls?

Logan read the perplexed sympathy in her eyes, sympathy that he'd never received at the time, because it had all been kept secret. Hidden. He was overcome suddenly by the weight of it, by the sheer exhaustion of keeping it inside all these years. And felt in himself a powerful urge to simply let it go.

"Logan?" Alicia asked softly, concerned by his sudden melancholy.

He sighed as he turned back toward her, and it tumbled out of his mouth abruptly, without preamble or explanation. As though he couldn't keep the fact of it to himself for one second longer.

"She was pregnant," he said woodenly. "Veronica was pregnant. That's why she agreed to marry me." He broke off, took a moment to control his breathing before he continued. "I would have married her, been with her..." He shook his head. "I'd wanted her for years. I didn't need a reason."

He smiled wistfully, trying hard to swallow the lump in his throat as he remembered. "And for a while, it was like a goddamned miracle. She told me she loved me. _Finally._ I'd been waiting to hear that for so long. And I sure as hell loved her. We were...happy."

Happy? The word seemed so...inadequate. There was no word that he knew of that could describe exactly how it had been between them during those few short weeks.

"What happened?" Alicia whispered, although she knew there was only one possible way that this story could have ended.

"We...we lost the baby," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

Alicia nodded in sympathy, as she watched Logan's eyes fill suddenly with tears that he was helpless to hold back.

She was out of her seat in a moment and around to the opposite side of the table. Alicia knelt beside his chair, reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and the tears he'd been unable to stem began to fall. The sound of his quiet sobs filled the room then, blending with the whir of the fans.

Alicia held Logan, stroking his hair as if he'd been her own boy, while he cried like it had happened yesterday. _Six years,_ she thought, _and it still has the power to_ _blindside him like this._

It had happened to both of them, to both Logan and Veronica, but it hadn't brought them closer. They hadn't worked through it together. Because if they had, Alicia knew, as she patted his back and tried to comfort him, there wouldn't have been a divorce. The divorce that never was.

When Logan's sobs finally began to abate, fading into a few soft hiccups, he laughed suddenly, a watery little sound. "I think I got snot all over your shirt," he said, pulling away from her, a look of chagrin on his face.

"Doesn't matter," Alicia said, smiling at him affectionately. "It's washable."

She rose and hurried into the bathroom, returning with a fistful of tissues, which Logan accepted gratefully. She sat down across from him once again.

"Logan," she said softly, after he'd wiped his eyes and blown his nose. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you. And to Veronica." She paused. "Am I right in thinking that no one knows about...the baby, except maybe Keith?"

"And Mac. Mac knows. It...happened while we were visiting her here in San Francisco."

"Here? It happened here? And yet...Veronica lives here." That surprised Alicia.

"Yeah," he said, his explanation showing just how well he understood Veronica. "But Mac is here. And Mac knows. Not that she...I'm sure Veronica never talks about it. I don't...I don't usually, myself. But Mac's here, and she knows Mac knows, and if I know Veronica, that's a comfort."

Alicia sighed, wondering about the immutable connection between these two kids. So many bad things had happened to them, she knew, separately and together. But this particular sorrow must have been too difficult to bear.

Logan's phone rang just then, and when she saw his face light up, she didn't have to wonder who was on the line.

"Hey," he said into the phone, "Alicia's here." There was a pause and then Alicia heard him say with a laugh, "Because she asked me to."

"I'm going to take a nap, Logan," Alicia said, rising, wanting to leave him to his phone call. "Thanks for lunch. Just let those squares cool and I'll take care of them later." She gave him a little wave as she started to move toward the door.

"Wait!" he said to her, and then into the phone, "Hold on, Veronica."

Alicia was stopped in the middle of the living room, halfway to the door, when Logan caught up with her, and without pausing, threw his arms around her. He wrapped her in a tight hug, the same kind her sons gave her when they were being especially loving.

Logan pulled back and smiled at her. "Thanks for...everything," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

Alicia patted his face affectionately, "Any time," she said softly, and then knew she'd have to get out of that room fast before she burst into tears herself.

How many people, she wondered as she closed the door behind her, had any idea how affectionate Logan Echolls really was? One, she'd wager. And now there were two.

_1:00 p.m. Saturday Afternoon_

Dick was nervous. He'd called Mac just to make sure she was home and that she hadn't eaten lunch. He'd stopped at a vegan restaurant for two veggie rolls, and at a flower shop for a bouquet of what the florist called 'spring flowers'. He still wasn't convinced that this was a good idea, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

It was hard for him to believe that Mac had agreed to be his date for the ball after he'd made such a fool of himself. Dick closed his eyes, once again remembering the incident that he couldn't think about without embarrassment. He hoped to god it hadn't done any permanent damage to his relationship with Mac.

He couldn't believe he'd been such an idiot. Dick sighed. Maybe it was because he liked Mac, really liked her, enjoyed her company. That was new for him, and different from how he usually was with women.

Now that he knew about the married-to-Ronnie thing, the whole thing made a lot more sense. But in the beginning, he'd wondered why Logan had drinks or dinner with Mac every time she visited Neptune. Of course, soon after Dick started tagging along, he didn't really care how or why the dinners had started. Mac's visits, those dinners, became one of the highlights of his life. Something to look forward to.

But then came that night a few months ago when Logan had flaked out at the last minute and Dick suddenly had Mac all to himself. He'd enjoyed her company, just like always. Or maybe even a little more, because he didn't have to vie with Logan for her attention. Dick had had such a great time, in fact, that he'd forgotten. Forgotten that it wasn't a date, forgotten that it wasn't even him she'd come to visit.

He'd driven her home, to the Mackenzie house in Neptune, walked her to the door, and it was as if the jackass version of himself from freshman year at Hearst had taken sudden possession of his body. They'd reached her door and without a second thought, he'd bent down to kiss her.

And just like the first time he'd made that move, years and years ago on a beach, she'd pulled away. Well, maybe it hadn't been exactly the same. For one thing, this time they'd just spent several hours together having a really good time. And he also hadn't been drunk, or anywhere near it. And while she had moved away, it hadn't been until the very last moment. Not until he'd already felt her breath on his face.

She hadn't been mad. That was different, too. She'd kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for a nice evening. And maybe that should have counted for something, but still, for weeks afterwards, whenever he'd thought about it, he'd felt like a complete jackass.

He'd talked to her on the phone just a couple of days ago, but he hadn't seen her since.

Mac opened the door with a friendly smile, and all of a sudden Dick felt relieved, just seeing that smile.

"This is great, you bringing me lunch," she said. "I've been racing around all morning, trying to do in a couple of hours all the things I usually spend the whole day doing."

"Like what?" Dick asked curiously.

"Oh, just the usual," she said. "Laundry, shopping, a little cleaning." Mac wrinkled her nose. "Maybe not so much on the cleaning."

She took the sandwiches from him and fished drinks from the fridge. "But I'm done now."

She eyed the flowers that Dick was still holding in his hands with some curiosity.

"Um, Dick," she asked, unwrapping the sandwiches and putting them on plates, "are those...for me? The flowers, I mean?"

Dick looked down at his hand, which was still clutched tightly around the bottom of the paper cone that the florist had wrapped around the bouquet. He grinned suddenly, his beautiful mega-watt smile, and Mac blinked.

"See what you do to me, Mac," he said, in a painfully honest disclosure. "I forgot I had them in my hand." He handed them to her. "Just to say thanks for, uh, being my date tonight."

Mac smiled, took the flowers and put them in an old-fashioned glass milk bottle that she'd repurposed as a vase. "They're beautiful, Dick. Thanks," she said sincerely.

As they sat across from each other at her small dining table, eating their sandwiches, Mac looked him over curiously. "You look different," she said suddenly. "I'm not quite sure..."

Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him, and finally her face lit up. "You cut your hair!" she said, as if making a profound discovery. Indeed, in his designer jeans and casual jacket, his fine blond hair cut close to his head, Dick Casablancas looked less like a surfer dude and more like an exceptionally good-looking corporate executive.

Dick shrugged. "Guess I figured it was about time," he said. "Time to stop pretending I was still a kid."

Mac studied him, her expression thoughtful. Finally she nodded, smiled. "It's a step in the right direction," she said, taking another bite of her veggie roll.

_1:30 p.m. Saturday Afternoon_

Veronica had spent all morning finding things to do, chasing down one activity after another so that she wouldn't give in to her nearly overwhelming urge to call Logan.

She knew he'd be busy with last minute details. In truth, she'd been amazed at Logan's ability to organize people and events, but she knew she shouldn't have been. The man had an extremely successful business, one that he'd been running for nearly five years.

Logan had proven to have an uncanny ability to find small, niche products, that were nevertheless highly profitable. He'd built his business on his ability to spot winners. Veronica was extraordinarily proud of him, although with everything that had gone on that week, she hadn't yet had the chance to tell him that.

Veronica groaned. She had to stop thinking about Logan, obsessing about Logan. She glanced at the clock. One-thirty. She grabbed her phone. Surely it would be okay to call him now.

"Hey," he said when he picked up. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Alicia's here."

Veronica grinned. "So how come you're calling her 'Alicia' now?" she teased.

"Because she asked me to," he said. She heard a voice in the background, then Logan's voice again. "Hold on, Veronica," he said.

He was back in a minute to report to her on all the arrivals and other activity at the St. Regis.

"Dick has one of the limos," he said, "but I'll send the other one to pick up you and Keith about two forty-five."

"Okay," she said, about to hang up.

"Veronica," he said suddenly, almost urgently.

"Yeah?" _What was wrong?_

"I've done something...said something." He stopped. "I...need to tell you about it, but I'm not sure...on the phone."

"What is it, Logan?" she said tensely. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

Veronica heard his sigh on the other end of the line.

"Veronica...I told Alicia."

"Told Alicia...what?" But she didn't really need to ask.

"I told her about the baby." Logan's voice was soft, tentative.

Veronica was silent for a moment, absorbing the blow to that part of her psyche that was, even after all this time, still so fragile.

"You...discussed my personal life?" Her voice was tight, choked.

His voice was soft when he reminded her, "It's my life, too, Veronica."

Logan waited a moment for her to say something else, and when she didn't, he sighed. "We can talk about this later...if you want. Two forty-five, Veronica. Don't forget."

It was a few more moments before Veronica understood that he'd ended the call.

_2:30 p.m. Saturday Afternoon_

True to his word, Dick had Mac back to the St. Regis and checked into her room by two-thirty. When they got to Logan's suite, it was clear that his mood had taken a nosedive since earlier in the day, and Dick just knew it had something to do with Ronnie. It always had something to do with Ronnie.

Logan and Mac nevertheless discussed how they would pull off the meeting in the elevator. Mac set up her laptop in the bedroom, so that she would have quick access to it when the time came. Dick helped with a small test run, after which they were all pretty confident that that part of the operation would run smoothly.

At ten to three, the rest of the party started to drift into the suite in twos and threes. Logan had sent Dick's limo to pick up Evie, and he was happy to see that she'd arrived safely.

Wallace and Emily and Leo and Lisa had spent their time getting further acquainted over a leisurely lunch in the dining room, which they made certain was _not_ charged to Logan. Weevil and Marisol had taken advantage of baby-free time to get reacquainted with each other, and arrived at Logan's suite with smiles on their faces. Alicia had managed her nap, and arrived with renewed energy.

By three o'clock, only Keith and Veronica were still missing.

When the knock came, Logan nearly jumped out of his skin. Why the hell had he told Veronica about confiding in Alicia. Maybe he owed it to her to tell her, but did it have to be today? Over the phone? He could have waited until tomorrow. He could have waited until next week. He could have waited until...

Logan looked up anxiously when Veronica and Keith walked through the door, and he was relieved to see that she didn't seem upset. The tension left his body, and he relaxed for the first time since he'd ended that phone call.

Veronica entered the room with a huge smile on her face.

"I'm so happy to see you all," she said, looking around at the gathering. "I want to talk to everyone at once. But...could I just ask you for one tiny indulgence? I need," she looked over at him, "to have a very quick word with Logan."

Logan looked at her warily. Christ! Maybe she was pissed at him after all.

"Logan, could we maybe go into the bedroom for a minute?" she asked him quietly, as the others in the room speculated about the urgency of Veronica's request for a private conversation with Logan.

"Of course," he said just as quietly, leading her into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. They stood just inside the doorway.

Logan started in before she could get out even one word.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. Not...sorry for confiding in Alicia, because I can't be sorry about that. But...I'm sorry for just blurting it out to you, over the phone, especially today, when you have so much else on your mind. It was just stupid..."

"Logan, stop!" Veronica startled him, covering his mouth with the palm of her hand to halt his monologue. His surprise grew when she removed her hand from his mouth to caress his cheek.

"I'm not mad, Logan," she said softly. "I was just...shocked. Just for a moment. But you're right. It's your life, too. So I wanted to make sure you knew that, and wouldn't be upset or spend all afternoon thinking that I was angry, so I thought..."

But Veronica never got to voice those thoughts because suddenly Logan was kissing her. And it was not a silly kiss like the one he'd surprised her with at Barney's, nor anything like the soft, sweet kiss that she'd given him on the sidewalk the night before. This was a different kind of kiss, a hungry kiss, the culmination of six years of heartache and a week's worth of longing.

Veronica responded immediately, and Logan wrapped her in his arms and deepened the kiss, pulling her as close to him as possible. What he wanted in that second was for everyone in the other room to simply disappear, for every problem and every worry and every fear that they'd have to face today to take itself off somewhere else. He longed to pick her up in his arms, lay her down on the bed, and bury himself inside her, because more than anywhere else on Earth, Logan knew that's where he belonged.

Veronica wound her arms around his neck and breathy little moans escaped her as she finally experienced the physical connection to Logan that she'd been yearning for all day. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't seem to reach high enough, or get close enough.

His lips never left hers when his hands stroked down her back and he lifted her, pulling her firmly against that part of him that was already hard and ready. They broke apart, gasping for air, but a new kiss began almost before the last one had ended. They'd both been craving this for days, and now that they were finally exactly where they wanted to be, they couldn't seem to stop. Didn't want to stop.

Logan was lost to all rational thought as he caressed her with his body at just the right angle to bring them both the most pleasure. Veronica could think of nothing but his mouth, and his hands, and the length of his body pressed against her. They were oblivious to everything but each other.

The knock on the door was so loud that they jumped apart, startled. They were breathing hard, still aroused, barely aware of their surroundings. As they glanced at one another, struggling for control, it suddenly occurred to them both that there might have been previous knocks, perhaps softer ones, that they'd been too preoccupied to hear. That they'd ignored.

Logan recovered first, moving from passionate to sardonic in a few heartbeats, his mouth lifting in a crooked smile.

"I heard there's a new award being given this year for 'ultimate achievement in bad timing.' I'm thinking of nominating myself." His tone was self-deprecating.

Veronica rolled her eyes and they both laughed.

Keith's voice came through the door.

"Honey, can the rest of your, uh, conversation with Logan wait a little while? There are a dozen people out here who are dying to talk to you."

Veronica didn't answer her father. Instead, she told Logan, " _I_ heard there was also a new award this year for 'greatest achievement in embarrassing yourself'. That's the one I'm going for."

She took a quick peek in the mirror and groaned. Veronica could have sworn they'd only been in that room for a few minutes, but her face was flushed and somehow she looked thoroughly debauched.

"Oh, god," she said, examining her hair and what was left of her make-up. "This is your fault," she said to Logan with a sideways glance.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted, unperturbed. "But right now, you only have to worry about your make-up. I have greater concerns." He waggled his brows and indicated the bulge in his jeans.

Veronica looked down and gave a little gasp. "You can't go out there like that!" she hissed at him.

"I agree," he said. "So - you go out first and I'll, um, follow afterwards."

"What, you want me to face all of them alone?" Just thinking about the embarrassment brought a flush to her cheeks.

"This was _your_ idea," he said. "You dragged me into this room. I'm the victim here." His arms crossed in front of him and his brows rose in feigned outrage, but his lips curved in an evil grin.

They stood there staring at one another until all at once the absurdity of the situation hit them, and soon they were both laughing helplessly. After a few moments, Veronica realized the futility of trying to avoid embarrassment.

"Come on," she said, opening the door and stepping into the room where the others were waiting. "We're only delaying the inevitable." Logan shrugged and followed.

_3:10 p.m. Saturday Afternoon_

Veronica and Logan made their way around the room, greeting old friends and meeting new ones. They were relieved to find that apparently by unspoken agreement, the others had decided to ignore their momentary indiscretion, although Veronica was sure she saw a few knowing smiles and quirked brows out of the corner of her eye.

She'd never been out of contact with Wallace, but she hadn't seen Weevil Navarro or Leo D'Amato in years, and she'd been looking forward to renewing their friendship.

"So what the hell have you got yourself into, anyway, Blondie?" was Weevil's greeting. Veronica just laughed and hugged Weevil, but poor Marisol was mortified.

"Eli!" she hissed.

"V," he said, "this is Marisol, the love of my life. She spends most of her time keeping me in line." He took out his phone. "And here's Princess Lucinda," he said, showing off his daughter.

Something flickered in Veronica's eyes just for a moment, but she recovered quickly and admired the baby's picture.

"You know, I been keepin' an eye on your boy for the last couple years," Weevil said with his patented wise-ass grin, "but I wouldn't mind if you took over again."

"Eli!" his wife said again. "I'm so sorry," she said to Veronica. "Sometimes Eli just can't keep his nose out of other people's business."

"Sometimes?" Veronica said with a grin and they both laughed.

"Hey," Weevil began, but Veronica was saved from his comment by the hand that fell across her shoulder, and then Wallace was wrapping her in his arms.

"Wallace," she said, hugging him fiercely. "I've missed you so much."

"Yeah, me too, girl. And after this is over, you and me are gonna have a long talk. But right now I want to introduce you to Emily," he said, indicating the woman next to him.

"I've heard so much about you," Veronica said with a smile.

While Veronica was chatting with Wallace and Emily, Logan had made his way toward Evie Garcia, whom he hadn't seen since she'd come to him in a panic on Tuesday night.

"How're you holding up, Evie?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm okay," she said. "Keith has been great. He's called every day just to make sure I was all right." She paused. "But I still think I've aged about ten years in the last few days."

Logan nodded sympathetically. He'd certainly had plenty of life-altering events when he was younger and understood her feelings perfectly.

"You'll get through this okay," he said quietly. "Just remember that what we're doing is a lot better than what could happen if the wrong people got their hands on information about your dad or Veronica. Or you."

"I know," she said. She grinned suddenly. "And I do have this awesome dress for the ball tonight. Can't wait till everyone sees me in it."

Logan laughed. "And that's the Evie I've come to know."

She sobered suddenly to ask curiously, "What about you and Veronica? Are things...going well?"

"I think so," he said. "Or...I hope so," he amended, smiling.

Logan looked up then and spotted Veronica talking with Leo and his fiancée.

"Excuse me, Evie, I'll talk to you later, " he said. He gave her arm a quick squeeze and sauntered over to join Veronica's conversation.

"Oh, good. Here he is now," Veronica said, glancing up as he approached. "Logan, I know you just saw Leo recently. This is his fiancée, Lisa."

Logan shook hands with both of them. "Thank you both for helping with this," he said.

"I wouldn't have missed it," Lisa replied enthusiastically, grinning at Veronica and Logan as though she couldn't believe she was standing there with them. As though they were one of those celebrity couples whose names people combined together to make a new "couple word." Veronica knew there was some term that people used to describe that practice, but she couldn't seem to remember what it was.

Logan looked at Veronica, his brow slightly wrinkled, but she shrugged almost imperceptibly. _Who knows?_ that shrug seemed to say.

"Well, I hope you'll at least enjoy the ball," he said finally. "Or get in some sightseeing. Your plane doesn't leave until five tomorrow."

Leo laughed in that charmingly boyish way he had.

"I don't think Lisa ever wants to leave this hotel," he said. "It's a little more...swank...than our usual style."

"I know exactly what you mean," Veronica said with a smile.

Across the room, two other individuals were becoming tentatively reacquainted.

"You look really wonderful, Alicia," Keith said sincerely. "It's so good to see you again."

"It's good to be here, and great to see you, too. And Veronica. Although I could wish for better circumstances."

Keith pulled his lips into a rueful smile and nodded his agreement. "Hell of a thing to find out someone wants to...kill your daughter."

"Yeah, well, that's not going to happen because we won't let it," Alicia said with her usual determination.

"There are about a million things I'd like to talk to you about, Alicia," Keith said, glancing at his watch and seeing that it was already after three-thirty, "but they'll have to wait, I'm afraid. I need to get this little party started."

They had decided amongst themselves that Keith would be the best person to explain how everything was going to work that night.

"Okay, folks," Keith began, raising his voice just slightly, just enough to catch their attention, "why doesn't everyone take a seat. I think there are enough chairs..."

"No problem, Mr. Mars," Dick said, as he and Mac settled themselves onto the floor.

"Or, I guess, use the floor," Keith said, nodding at Dick.

Keith looked them over once they were all in place, eyes riveted on him. Where five minutes before they'd been a lively bunch, chatting in small groups all over the room, they were now completely silent.

"I think you've probably heard that there are certain elements that want some...harm to come to my daughter at this ball tonight. I won't go into the reasons right now, but I think you've all been made aware of them."

He paused. "Some of you may be wondering why Veronica doesn't simply remove herself from the situation by staying away from the ball. Unfortunately," Keith shook his head tiredly, "under the circumstances, that's not an option. So we need to make sure that Veronica stays safe. Our information says that the...attackers will want to make whatever they have planned look like an accident, and that means they're going to need to catch Veronica alone."

Keith spoke deliberately, making sure they understood.

"So Veronica will not be left alone tonight. Not even for a second. And because it's easy for one, or even two people to become distracted, there need to be at least four of you guarding her at all times."

Keith chuckled. "Remember that old joke about women going to the restroom in packs? That's going to be reality tonight. If she's dancing, especially if she's dancing with Garcia, but even if she were dancing with, say," and he couldn't resist a little smirk, "Logan, at least two other couples will be out on that dance floor right next to them."

"We've made up tentative schedules, but you can talk amongst yourselves and see what will work, but there's one other thing you need to remember." Keith looked them over carefully. "You can't be obvious about this. You're just a bunch of friends, you haven't seen Veronica in a while, and you're sticking close."

Keith paused. "But that's only the first part, the part about keeping Veronica...out of harm's way. There's also a second part." Keith stopped again, wondering how to explain their plans for Garcia, with both Evie Garcia and especially Detective D'Amato in the room. He hadn't wanted to put Leo in this position, but he just didn't see any way around it.

"For reasons of which I know you're aware," Keith continued, "Matthew Garcia can't be allowed to continue as a candidate for Attorney General. We also believe that Veronica won't really be safe until he withdraws from the race. So we've devised a...second plan, one that will end in Garcia's disgrace. And it should...play out...right in the middle of the ball.

"You only need to know two things about this plan. First, Garcia believes that you all think that he and Veronica are still engaged. So when you meet him tonight, you need to act like you believe that...fiction. She'll be wearing a rock the size of a glacier on her finger, so that should help to remind you.

"The second thing...the second thing," here goes, he thought, "is that we need to get Garcia...mellow...for this plan to work."

Keith heard some titters from his otherwise captive audience.

"We've...arranged...for Matthew to...ingest...something that will put him into the proper...mood to be receptive to our plan." Keith snuck a fleeting glance at Leo and was sure he saw the flicker of a smirk on the detective's face.

There was a sudden guffaw from Evie Garcia. "You're going to get Daddy high? This I've got to see!" The rest of them laughed.

"Yes, well, unfortunately, Matthew Garcia isn't much of a drinker, so we've had to...improvise. At the pre-party tonight, the majority of the food will be catered. But Alicia here has made us some of her special Italian bread squares. And when I say special..." He let that sentence trail off.

"If any of you are tempted by the delicious aromas of cheese and garlic, there are two batches of the squares, and the ones in the," here he paused and looked over at Alicia...

"Round," she supplied.

Keith nodded. "The squares in the round dish will be safe for you to eat. And please eat some. It might be suspicious if you don't."

"The specifics of what might...befall Mr. Garcia at the ball, well, most of you don't really need to know. In fact, if you can show genuine...surprise over the...events, so much the better.

He paused again. "Anyone have any questions?" he asked.

Dick raised his hand immediately. "What about when we get to the shindig? Wouldn't it help if the dude had a few drinks in him? For whatever you're trying to pull?"

"As I said, Dick, Garcia doesn't drink much," Keith responded.

Dick nodded. "I get it," he said. "You just leave that to me."

"What the hell are you planning, Dick?" Mac whispered urgently in his ear.

"Don't worry, Mac," he said with a grin, "Dick Casablancas is on the job."

"Oh, god," she said. "That's kinda what I'm afraid of."

Dick squeezed her hand. "I'll explain later," he whispered in her ear.

"Any other questions?" Keith asked. Weevil raised his hand.

"Eli?"

"So is anyone going to be looking for these _pendejos_ who are trying to hurt V? While we're at this dance, I mean."

Keith nodded. "Absolutely," he said. "But the one thing that's most important is that they can't know that we know about them. Because if they do, then this whole thing, this whole...exercise...will have been for nothing. So if you spot someone you think might be a threat, tell me or tell Leo, but don't do anything on your own."

Weevil nodded. "Understood."

Keith looked at his watch. It was after four, and they all had to be back here by six. He and Veronica had to get to her place and be ready for Matthew to pick them up at six. So they didn't have much time to spare.

"Okay, then," Keith said, for all the world feeling like a theatrical director, "if nobody has any more questions, I guess the rehearsal's over. The one and only performance of this...farce...begins tonight at six, right here in this suite." Keith sighed. "This one is mostly unscripted, kids, so be on your toes."

"And," he added, "be careful."

They began to leave the suite the way they'd arrived, in groups of two and three.

Before Alicia left, Keith figured he'd better give her the bad news.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" he asked, just as she was moving towards the door.

"Of course," she said, stopping, wondering why Keith was looking so uncomfortable.

"Keith?" she prompted.

"Alicia," he said finally, giving her a rueful little smile. "I'm afraid there's been a further complication."

"Oh?" she said, perplexed.

Keith sighed. "Veronica...when she was talking to Matthew, telling him about this party...well...she couldn't come up with a reason why her father would be here at a reunion of her high school friends. So...well...it was a spur of the moment, impromptu explanation, best she could come up with at the time..." His voice trailed off as he hesitated and looked away, embarrassed beyond words.

"Keith," Alicia said. "For heaven's sake, what is it?"

He shook his head. "She told him I was coming, too, because Wallace's mom, that is, you, were my girlfriend."

Alicia's face went blank for a moment, and then she smiled archly. "So I presume this might call for some additional acting on our part, then?"

"Well, I don't know," Keith said, trying to interpret her reaction. "I'm...not sure it will be necessary."

"Oh, but you wouldn't want Matthew to catch on, would you? Think that Veronica lied to him?"

She didn't wait for an answer as she appeared to consider the situation and reach her own conclusion.

"No, I definitely think we need to work this, Keith," she maintained, nodding her head. "Put in some extra details...here and there."

"Oh," Keith said, nonplussed. "Here and there. Well, if you think that you'd be able to, uh, do that, then maybe..."

Alicia grinned. "Oh, I definitely think I'd be able to handle that," she said, with a twinkle in her eye. "See you later, Keith."

Keith watched her walk out the door with that age-old question ringing in his head.

_What the hell just happened?_

By the time Keith had finished speaking with Alicia, he saw that everyone else had left. Everyone except Veronica, who was talking to Logan on the other side of the room. Keith slipped from the suite to give them some privacy.

_4:15 p.m. Saturday Afternoon_

"It'll be okay," Logan said, doing his best to give Veronica some last-minute reassurance. "Everything's gonna go like clockwork."

They stood together in the far corner of the suite, taking a quiet moment for themselves before the difficult evening ahead of them.

"I know," she said, sighing, her lips curving into a wry smile. "you've taken care of everything."

"Not just me," he objected. "This was _our_ plan. We did it together."

Veronica nodded her agreement.

"And after tonight," he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek affectionately, "we can do a lot of things together."

"What do you mean?" she asked, distracted by the touch of his hand on her skin.

"Veronica," he said with determination, "you're still my wife."

"I know that," she replied. "But we already agreed about what's best ..."

Logan shook his head and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't agree," he said. "I was willing to go along with it...before. But...I didn't agree." He looked at her closely. "What about what happened in there," he asked, nodding his head toward the bedroom, "not an hour ago?"

"It's the same thing that always happens when we get within ten feet of each other, Logan," she conceded. "But it doesn't...it doesn't necessarily mean we can...make a life together."

They stared at each other, two stubborn, set faces.

Logan chuckled suddenly, wondering what had become of the fine speech he'd given to Dick the night before. The one where he understood the difference between Veronica _wanting_ him and wanting to be _with_ him. _All in good time_ , he thought.

Logan bent and kissed Veronica on the forehead. "Never mind all that now," he said. "Just go put on your party face so we can raise the curtain on this little production."

Veronica smiled suddenly, warmly, and reached up to kiss Logan on the cheek.

"Break a leg," she said.


	18. Part II - Chapter 13

Part II - Chapter 13

"Dammit!"

Veronica was about to slip into her gown when she heard her father's frustrated bellow from down the hall.

"What's the matter, Dad?" she shouted back. "Are you too cramped in there? Because I'm almost dressed, so if you need to use my room..."

"No, it's not that," came the disgruntled reply.

Veronica laid the dress on her bed, pulled on her robe, and headed towards her small bathroom. She had her hand raised to knock when the door opened suddenly, and her father emerged dressed in evening wear, a narrow band of black cloth draped around his neck.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Keith sighed, feeling like an idiot. "It's this damned tie," he said. "I can't seem to make it work."

Veronica smiled at him affectionately. "Why didn't you get one of the ones that are pre-tied?" she asked curiously.

Keith turned a pale shade of pink.

"Well, uh, the guy at the rental shop said the ones that are tied by hand were more, um, dapper."

"Dapper?" Veronica repeated. "Dad, nobody's used the word 'dapper' in the last half century. And besides," she added with a smirk, "since when have you been interested in, uh, dapperness."

"What do you mean?" Keith said, striking a pose. "I'm dapper. I'm debonair. I might even be considered," here his voice sank to a stage whisper, "suave."

"Considered by whom?" she asked, her brow quirked in amusement.

Keith sighed. "So, do you think you could help me out here, honey?" he asked, ignoring her little gibe.

Veronica shrugged and gave it her best shot, but after a few minutes of trying very hard to get all the thin sections and fat sections of the tie to line up properly, she was no more successful than her father had been.

"Maybe," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "after we get to the hotel, you can ask Alicia for some assistance."

"Oh, daughter of mine, are you abandoning me in my hour of need? Forcing me to go elsewhere for help." Keith had his grousing down pat.

"Stop whining, Dad," Veronica said with a laugh, returning to her bedroom. "I need to get dressed."

She had barely finished applying her lipstick a few minutes later when a text from Matthew let her know that he was downstairs with their taxi.

"What, he doesn't come up and get you?" Keith complained. "Just waits for you downstairs?"

"You know there's no place to park around here, Dad. This is a lot more...practical. Matthew's not trying to be rude."

Veronica picked up her evening bag and checked its contents.

"Good to know, Veronica," Keith replied with a nod. "The man may be a mobster, but at least he's not a rude one."

Veronica chuckled, happy that her dad was able to make jokes about the situation. She'd turned out the lights and had her hand on the doorknob, when Keith stopped her abruptly.

"Veronica," he said in all seriousness, turning her towards him. "When this night is over, everything will be done with. It's all going to...work out."

"I know, Dad," she said softly, wondering just who was reassuring whom.

Keith reached over and kissed her cheek. "And by the way, honey, you look beautiful. How I ever got such a beautiful daughter, I'll never know."

Veronica was touched. "Thanks, Dad," she said, smiling.

"Now, if we were talking _smart_?" he continued, nodding. " _That_ makes sense. Or _cunning_? Just a chip off the old block," he added as they walked out of the apartment.

Veronica laughed. "Come on," she said, taking his arm as they descended the stairs. "Matthew hates to wait."

"And let me tell you," Keith assured her, "that's high on my list of concerns this evening."

Matthew was standing outside the taxi waiting, much as he had been when he'd picked her up for their dinner in Sausalito. _Was that really only nine days ago?_ Veronica could hardly believe that so much had happened in such a short period of time.

Matthew took her hand and helped her into the cab. "You look lovely, Veronica," he said, adding "as usual."

"Thank you," she said, but she couldn't help thinking, that's two for two. Veronica was unable to stop herself from wondering what Logan would think when he saw her in her gown. She'd fallen in love with it when she'd found it at Nordstrom. Even on the sale rack it had cost more than she'd wanted to pay, but after she'd tried it on, she hadn't been able to resist.

The dress was strapless red silk, with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice was fitted and consisted of a series of tiny overlapping diagonal pleats. The skirt was a soft, flowing a-line. It was simple, and elegant, and she felt like a million dollars in it.

She was wearing the dressy silver sandals that she'd purchased at DSW the previous day, and Matthew gave her a perplexed look when he handed her into the taxi.

"You seem...taller this evening," he commented. "But that's hardly possible, is it?"

Veronica smiled serenely and nodded in agreement. "Not possible."

"Good evening, Keith," Matthew said pleasantly, offering his hand to the older man, while at the same time eyeing, and then ignoring, Keith's untied neckwear.

Keith thought it was just as well he was practiced in the art of subterfuge as he maintained a pleasant expression while he shook Garcia's hand.

"Matthew," he said, stepping into the cab after his daughter. When they were settled, he asked with a polite smile, "And how is the campaign going?"

Matthew Garcia hesitated for just a heartbeat before responding with equal courtesy. "It's kind of you to ask," he said. "I...believe it's going well." He added nothing further on the subject.

"Veronica," he said, pulling a small velvet box out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here is, uh, your ring." Garcia glanced at Keith Mars, wondering what Veronica had told her father about the ring, about their engagement, about...anything at all.

"Thank you, Matthew," she said, slipping on the ring. "It looks so much better now that it's been cleaned."

 _Ah,_ he thought, _she has chosen to maintain the fiction with her father as well, at least for the moment._ Perhaps that was wise. It wouldn't do to try to remember two different stories.

Matthew regretted the need for any type of deception, regretted that she'd broken the engagement at all. But he admitted to himself that he wasn't sure if it was because he mourned the loss of Veronica or that he feared the reaction of his...backers...when they learned of her defection. But that was a problem for next week. For now, he was relieved that no one other than he and Veronica knew about the broken engagement. For that much, he could at least be thankful.

xxxxxxxx

And so the performance began, a farce in two acts. Or perhaps two farces, playing out simultaneously.

Matthew thought he was saving Veronica from embarrassment, that he was helping her fool twelve of her closest friends and family into believing that their engagement was still intact. This was fine with Matthew, since it jibed exactly with his own objective for that evening. Of course for him, the masquerade was aimed at an entirely _different_ audience.

But he was the only player who was reading from that script. The other thirteen had a different book, one in which the objective, or the end play, or perhaps the climax, would be nothing less than the public disgrace of Matthew Garcia.

By prearrangement, the others were all assembled in the suite before the arrival of Keith, Veronica and Matthew. Inwardly, Logan was a nervous wreck, but life with Aaron had given him years of practice in presenting an untroubled facade.

To his relief, Evie had finally arrived a few moments earlier, the limo he'd sent for her having been caught in some mid-town traffic. She was displaying her new dress for his admiration when they all heard the knock that signaled that the last of the guests had arrived. A sudden silence descended on the room, as if they were all taking one collective deep breath.

Logan moved to open the door.

Veronica entered the room with Garcia and her father just as though she hadn't already visited with every single person in that room only a few hours ago. But where the earlier gathering had had a party atmosphere, this time it felt as though she were following a theatrical direction.

_Enter stage left, Veronica and Others._

She forced herself not to look at Logan, not to seek comfort from his presence. Instead, remembering her role, she moved past him, toward the the couple closest to the door. To the Navarros, who were both smiling broadly, if a little stiffly.

And she couldn't help thinking... _Act I, Scene 1, and...line..._

"Eli Navarro," Weevil said, extending his hand, "and this is my wife, Marisol." Before Matthew could respond with more than his name, Weevil continued in what Veronica assumed was a prepared line of conversation.

"Marisol and I were happy to see one our own running for statewide office," Weevil said with the most fatuous grin that Veronica had ever seen on his face. Standing slightly behind Matthew, she narrowed her eyes at Weevil, hoping he wasn't spreading it so thick that Matthew couldn't help but smell the pungent aroma.

But, no, apparently Matthew's ego was unassailable. Her ersatz fiancé puffed up like a peacock and explained to Weevil how proud he was to represent the Latino population, how he'd grown up in the _barrio_ , and was now giving back to his community. _Yada, yada, yada._ She'd heard it all a dozen times or more, but Weevil and Marisol were doing a fantastic job of hanging on his every word.

When Veronica didn't think she could stomach another syllable, she moved Matthew along to Leo and Lisa, waiting in the wings by the buffet. Veronica introduced Leo, and allowed herself to be introduced once again to the fiancée she had met not two hours earlier. Lisa gushed, but then she had the first time, too.

"Great to meet you," Leo said, his boyish smile ever present.

"I understand you went to school with Veronica," Matthew said, making some attempt at the small talk at which he was so poor. It seemed to him to be a pretty safe remark, since he'd been told that these were Veronica's school friends. But Leo D'Amato was a surprise.

"Well, actually," Leo said, his grin widening, "I'm a couple of years older than Veronica. I worked for her dad when he was sheriff, and...hope I'm not spilling the beans, Veronica," he looked her way with a wink, "but Veronica and I used to date."

Matthew glanced at Lisa, as if wondering if she'd known, if she'd wanted to a attend a party with her fiancé's ex. He remembered his uncomfortable dinner with Echolls just the week before.

Leo saw the look and laughed. "Oh, Lisa knows all about it," he said, and Lisa smiled pleasantly.

"I see," Matthew said, turning to Veronica. "This gathering seems to be filled with your old boyfriends, Veronica," he said pointedly.

"I suppose you're referring to Echolls," Leo said. His tone became confidential. "Not one of Veronica's better ideas. I suppose he's a good enough guy, rich as hell, and if he wants to have this little party, then why should we turn it down?"

Leo paused, as if for emphasis.

"But sometimes, the guy just acts like a loon. Know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Matthew responded, recognizing that here at least was an old friend of Veronica's that he could relate to. "And what do you yourself do?" he asked pleasantly.

"Oh, I stayed in law enforcement, work for the San Diego Police," Leo replied.

"Ah...yes," Matthew said guardedly. They were a motley assortment, these old friends of Veronica's.

Behind him, Veronica was rolling her eyes. Had all her friends decided to take up acting? She made a mental note to remind them to keep their day jobs. She searched her mind for a new topic of conversation, but before she could say a word Dick appeared on the other side of Matthew.

"Duuude," he said in surfer tones so broad that Veronica was sure that even Dick had never used them before.

"Dick Casablancas," he introduced himself, holding out his hand for Matthew to shake. "Glad to finally meet Ronnie's guy. Hey, I got something I want you to try, something really _fantabulous_. My girlfriend is bringing it over. Hey, babe, you got that special drink for my friend, Matthew?"

Veronica struggled to contain herself when Mac strolled over looking fantastic in a black sheath dress, with a wide Egyptian collar of crystal and stones, that hugged her toned body in all the right places. It was slit up the side all the way to her left thigh.

"Dick," Mac said, winding her arm around his waist. "What are you going on about with poor Matthew?" She turned to Garcia then. "Nice to see you, Matthew. Sorry about Dick. He sometimes gets a little overenthusiastic. But the drink is really good. I think you should try it," she finished with a wide smile.

Matthew took the drink from her hand, his head already beginning to spin, and took a sip. It was, in fact, very tasty. But he was perplexed. He'd met Veronica's friend Mac before, more than once, and nothing about the woman, whom he remembered was some sort of computer genius, would have led him to believe that she would have this...this idiot surfer _dude_ as her boyfriend. But he could hardly ask her, he thought, continuing to sip on his drink while he contemplated the apparent mésalliance.

He supposed that the man was handsome enough, but as Dick continued to stare at Matthew with the most foolish expression that he'd ever seen, Matthew wondered what other attractions he might possess for a woman of Mac's capabilities.

"And are you also from Neptune?" he asked Dick curiously.

"Well, sure," Dick boomed. "Logan and I go back years."

Ah. A friend of Echolls. That certainly explained it, Matthew thought, finishing off his drink.

Veronica just gaped. Dick was acting more idiotic than she'd ever seen him, and yet Mac had her hands all over him. What was even more amazing, they'd been there only a few minutes, and yet Matthew had already downed an entire drink. She wondered fleetingly what Dick had put into it.

"Looks like that drink was a winner, hey?" Dick clapped Garcia on the shoulder so hard that his body actually shifted slightly towards Veronica.

"I think we need to make Ronnie's friend another one of these, Mackie," he said, grinning at Mac, who was smiling at him indulgently.

"Whatever you say, hon," she said.

The two of them drifted away, ignoring Matthew's feeble protests that it was unnecessary, that he'd just finished the last drink, that he was fine as he was.

He turned to Veronica, shaking his head. "Your friend Mac is very...unexpected tonight," he said.

Veronica smiled brightly. "Mac is brilliant in so many ways, but she seems to have a, um, blind spot when it comes to Dick."

"Indeed," Matthew replied. He wondered momentarily what might have been in that drink because he could almost be persuaded that he was feeling some aftereffects. Impossible, he told himself. He didn't drink that much, but one, or even two drinks, had never had any effect on him before.

Perhaps what he needed was something to eat.

Mac and Dick had no sooner left their corner of the room than Wallace approached with Emily in tow. Veronica knew she could at least count on this pair not to engage in any amateur theatrics.

"Matthew," she said with a smile, "this is my very good friend Wallace Fennel, and his girlfriend, Emily Taylor."

"Hey, man, great to finally meet you," Wallace said with a grin so wide that Veronica wondered if he'd somehow added a few extra teeth.

Ah, yes, Veronica's friend Wallace, Matthew thought, as he shook Wallace's hand. He'd heard quite a bit about this man, and had asked Veronica on more than one occasion if she and Wallace had ever been more than just friends. But she'd always laughed and said that Wallace was like a brother.

He studied the man now. He was certainly handsome enough, and he saw real affection in his attitude toward Veronica, but perhaps she had been telling the truth after all. Matthew was relieved. Despite the fact that she was no longer truly his fiancée, he would still have been uncomfortable with the idea that they were spending their evening in the company of a cadre of Veronica's former beaux.

He turned to Wallace's girlfriend - _Emily?_ \- and paused, staring. Here, indeed, was a beautiful woman. Her caramel-colored skin and long dark hair struck Matthew as extremely attractive, exotic even. He wondered fleetingly if they were a serious couple, if there were an understanding between them...

Matthew realized suddenly that he'd completely lost track of the conversation. What the hell had been in that concoction from the idiot surfer? Yes, he must definitely find something to eat.

And as though she'd read his thoughts, a woman appeared suddenly, bearing a platter of what looked to be small bites of bread. They looked delicious and Matthew knew they'd be just what he needed to counteract the effects of the alcohol.

"Hello," the woman said eagerly. "I'm Alicia Fennel. I've heard so much about you. It's great to finally meet you."

Not by her tone or her expression would Matthew Garcia have guessed that Alicia Fennel had never even heard his name until three days earlier.

"Yes, of course," he said, holding out his hand. The woman handed the platter she'd been holding to a grinning Keith Mars, who'd appeared suddenly at her side. She grabbed Matthew's hand, and he found himself wrapped in a quick embrace.

Alicia grinned at him. "Keith told me all about you, but he never mentioned what a handsome man you were," she said with a wink.

Matthew blinked and then smiled. He believed that Keith's girlfriend was...well...it appeared that she was _flirting_ with him. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at Veronica's father, but the smile on Keith's face never wavered.

Alicia took back the platter and held it out to Matthew almost reverently, as though she were offering ambrosia to the gods. Matthew took one of the delicious-looking squares of bread and bit into it deliberately. Ambrosia, indeed. He had to restrain himself from smacking his lips.

"They're my specialty, you know." Alicia told him excitedly. "Logan insisted on having this party catered, but honestly, sometimes that catered food just tastes like cardboard. Nothing like something homemade."

Matthew couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything "homemade," beyond a toasted bagel or a bowl of cereal. Even his weekend lunches were delivered by a local deli. But he couldn't help but agree with her in this case. He smiled and reached for a second piece of the delicious bread.

As he bit into it, he wondered why he'd been apprehensive about coming to this gathering of Veronica's friends. So far, everyone had been extremely cordial and he was having a very pleasant time. But then, of course...

"I suppose we can delay conversing with our host no longer," he said, swallowing the last bite of bread and turning toward Veronica. But he was far less concerned about the forced interaction with Echolls than he'd been when they'd arrived a mere half-hour earlier.

"We really shouldn't," she agreed. "And besides, I want to get a better look at Evie's dress."

Matthew gave Alicia a small bow.

"That bread was wonderful," he said sincerely. Moving a little closer, Matthew grinned and placed his arm loosely around Alicia's waist. "You must save some of those for me," he demanded, almost flirtatiously. "I'll be back."

Alicia smiled back at him cloyingly. "I'm so happy that you like them," she said, nearly quivering with delight. "I promise I won't let anyone else touch them."

And that was undoubtedly the most honest remark that would be made to Matthew Garcia that entire evening.

Veronica suppressed the urge to giggle as she and Matthew moved toward the window where Logan was standing. But she sobered suddenly when she saw that he had his arm around Evie's waist. She knew they were only playing a part, knew it had to appear to Matthew as though Logan had no interest in Veronica. But it didn't matter how many ways she told herself the same thing, she was still just a little disturbed.

As they drew nearer, Veronica examined Logan closely for the first time since they'd arrived. He looked wonderful in his new tuxedo. The high, notched collar emphasized his broad shoulders and the elegant line of his body, and for just a moment, Veronica had a hard time breathing.

She glanced down involuntarily, wondering if he were, indeed, wearing the $4000 suit with the $89 shoes. When she looked up, it was directly into Logan's eyes, which were gleaming with laughter, as though he'd read her thoughts. She couldn't stop the answering smirk that appeared on her face. Veronica glanced sideways at Matthew and forced herself to concentrate. They couldn't afford such lapses, or they'd give themselves away. But she needn't have worried, because for the moment, Matthew's attention was focused elsewhere.

Although he rarely gave it much thought, Matthew Garcia had known for a long time that his daughter was a beautiful girl. Evie got her coloring from him, but her features from her mother, and they'd combined to create an elegant countenance. It was no wonder, he thought, that she'd attracted a man like Logan Echolls.

But it was her attire that had caught his eye today. Was this the latest fashion, he wondered.

Unlike the other women in the room, Evie had chosen a short dress, and the garment seemed very...peculiar...to Matthew. The top was plain black, and modest enough, which was not always the case with his daughter. But it was the skirt that puzzled him. It was made of many layers of some kind of pink gauzy material that poofed out from her body and landed several inches above her knees. Her heels were so high that her head reached to the middle of her escort's face, and Echolls was a tall man. Her father shook his head and marveled that she could walk in them.

As they approached, Matthew wondered how much the entire ensemble was costing him.

"Hello, Evie," he said to his daughter, and then surprised himself by reaching over to kiss her cheek.

Evie smiled in delight. She couldn't remember the last time her father had spontaneously shown her affection.

"Hi, Daddy," she said. "How do you like my dress?"

Matthew smiled suddenly, detecting the hopeful note in her voice. Really what difference did it make how much she'd spent? Or how absurd he found the styling? He could afford it, and she looked...very attractive in it.

"It's lovely, Evie," he answered. "you are lovely." His smile turned into a grin as he looked at her.

Evie Garcia had a difficult time keeping her mouth from dropping in astonishment. It must be the drinks, she thought, or the weed. Her father seemed so...relaxed. Is this what he'd be like, she wondered, if he weren't so _uptight_ all the time?

She contented herself with a brief, "Thank you, Daddy," as he turned, reluctantly, toward their host.

"Echolls," he said, nodding slightly.

"Garcia," the other returned nonchalantly.

Neither held out his hand and neither expected it. They'd passed that level of charade the previous week.

Matthew knew his duty, though, as a polite guest. And as Veronica's 'fiancé'.

"It was...kind of you to have this little gathering so that Veronica could see so many of her old friends," he said courteously.

"Well...Veronica and I had known each other a long time before we tried out being married," Logan replied, turning toward her with a shrug. Then his eyes widened as he glanced at her left hand where it rested on Garcia's arm, and appeared to notice something for the first time.

"I see," he said, smiling sardonically, "that the 3-carat rock is somehow back on your finger. Your earlier...concerns about wearing it while you and I are still technically married seem to have evaporated over the past week." His brow quirked with what could very well have been taken for amused cynicism.

Veronica's tone was dismissive when she replied. "You know damn well that who I decide to be with is none of your business anymore, Logan," she said. "I was a little...taken aback...when you dropped that bomb on me last week, but then I realized it made absolutely no difference."

She shrugged.

"Another set of papers, a couple of signatures, and everything will finally end up exactly as it was supposed to have six years ago," Veronica added, unconcerned.

She was so convincing that for a split second, Logan was startled. But only for an instant, and then he smirked and bowed on cue. "Of course," he answered coolly. "As you wish."

Evie stood silent, listening to the exchange in amazement. If she didn't know better, if she hadn't seen with her own eyes the two flushed and embarrassed individuals who'd walked out of the bedroom into this very room not three hours earlier, she would have been completely convinced that Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars were utterly indifferent to one another.

She felt Logan's arm around her waist then and she suddenly remembered her part.

"Daddy," she said to her father, "I'll be going back to Melissa's again tonight, unless," she smirked, looking at Logan out of the corner of her eyes, "I get a better offer."

Matthew knew there was something that as a father, he was supposed to say to his daughter's date after a remark like that, but for the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember what it was. Finally, after searching his memory banks under the heading 'useful clichés', he turned and said to Echolls, "I expect you to treat my daughter with respect."

"I'm always respectful of beautiful women," came the insouciant reply.

Before Matthew could think of a response to that oblique comment, that ass Casablancas was at his side once again, shoving another one of those 'special' drinks in his face.

"Hey, Dude," he boomed. "I kinda lost track of you. Mac made you another one of her Mackie specials," he said with the same silly grin that seemed to be the only expression that ever graced his face.

"Well, I'm not sure..." Matthew looked at Veronica for rescue, but there was none to be had from that quarter.

"Oh, yum," Veronica said, smiling. "I hope you made one for me, too, this time."

"Of course," Mac said, handing over two glasses. And if she was extremely precise about which of the recipients received which glass, it's doubtful that anyone noticed.

Matthew took the drink reluctantly, mindful of his sensitive reaction to the first one. But then he smiled in relief as his savior appeared over Veronica's shoulder with her tasty homemade appetizers.

"Ah," he said, "this is just what I need to go with your wonderful drink, Mac. This bread is so delicious, Alicia," Matthew said with a wide smile.

"I'm glad you think so," Alicia said, her smile equally wide, as she handed him two of her special squares.

Matthew chewed on the delicious bread and drank the wonderful drink and thought that perhaps it was unfortunate that he and Veronica weren't getting married after all. Because, always excepting that jackass Echolls and his surfer buddy, her friends all seemed like delightful people. So accommodating, so respectful.

He nodded to the Navarros across the room, who smiled and waved. He'd been so gratified that they'd appreciated that he was an outstanding member of the Latino community. They were chatting with Leo and his young lady and Matthew nodded to him as well. Soon, he would also be a part of law enforcement in this state and Matthew was certain it wouldn't hurt for him to have a personal contact in a large city like San Diego.

His eyes shifted then to Wallace Fennel, who had just joined that group along with the very beautiful Emily. Matthew's eyes lingered long over Emily, with her bright smile and her golden skin. There'd been a girl like Emily in his class when he'd been thirteen, before he'd gone away to school. When he'd still lived with his grandmother. _Abuela_ had been old-fashioned, bound by old prejudices, and she hadn't approved of his interest in...

Matthew paused, amazed that he could have forgotten her name, since he'd pined over her for months after he'd moved away. His mind wandered from his current surroundings as he remembered the silent looks that he and the girl used to exchange when they passed each other in the halls. He wondered now what had happened to that girl. Wondered even more what would have happened if he'd stayed. Would he have ever had the courage to defy his _abuela's_ entrenched bigotry and pursue her?

The others stood and watched as Matthew stared at Wallace's Emily and seemed to go into a trance. A silent communication passed between Logan and Veronica. _Now or never_ , it seemed to say.

"Oh, no." Veronica's sudden exclamation broke in on Matthew's reverie. He was startled.

"What's the matter, Veronica?" Matthew asked. Veronica rarely had a problem that she couldn't handle herself.

He looked over now and saw her scouring her small purse, as though the contents might somehow change if she kept sifting through them.

Veronica smiled ruefully. "I'm so sorry, Matthew, but we may have to cut our evening short," she said. Her tone, she thought, was a perfect blend of misery and contrition, and she waited for the expected response.

"What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "That is...is unacceptable. We haven't even put in an appearance...uh, that is...gotten to the ball. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can be fixed."

Veronica looked chagrined. "Well," she said quietly, trying to be as discreet as possible. "I may have indulged a little too much in all these delicious hors d'oeuvres, and now I'm feeling a little, um..." She grimaced and patted her stomach.

"Really, Veronica," he said, his tone mildly chastising. "Surely with your eating habits you should carry around something for that...problem." His eyes lit up. "Or perhaps one of your friends can help."

And before she could stop him, Matthew, generally the picture of repressed inhibition, raised his voice to the room at large to ask an...indelicate...question.

"Does anyone have a Tums?" he inquired loudly.

Veronica was certain Matthew must be at least half-baked for him to have asked for such an intimate item from virtual strangers. Dammit! She hadn't anticipated that he'd ever make such a request. They hadn't explained this part to the others, so there was the outside possibility that one of them might respond.

The partygoers all looked at each other covertly, wondering where their script was for this scene. Were they supposed accommodate Garcia...or not? A beat passed, then two, and Veronica was about ring down the all-clear in her head when she heard an eager, "I think, maybe. Wait, let me look," from across the room. Lisa Chang had already opened her purse, when Leo caught sight of the look of horror on Veronica's face.

"Don't even bother, Lise," he said, reaching for her hand. "Remember, you forgot to pack it."

Lisa blinked once, twice, and focused on his face. And caught on. "That's right," she said, her eyes never leaving Leo's. "Sorry, Matthew," she added, as convincingly as she could.

 _Another one whose day job isn't in danger_ , Veronica thought, silently sighing with relief.

Veronica looked at Matthew and shrugged helplessly. Her face twisted in discomfort as her 'illness' escalated.

"Well, surely, there is someplace..." he began.

"There's a small store off the lobby," Echolls offered casually, "if you want to check there." His shoulder lifted slightly and his tone could not have said it more plainly. _She's your problem now._

Matthew looked around, as if anticipating that someone would offer to fetch the medication for Veronica, but none was forthcoming. Since she was ill, he knew he could hardly expect her to go herself. But something must be done because it was imperative that Veronica not become too ill to attend the ball.

Matthew sighed in resigned acceptance that there was only one possible solution.

He was surprised at how unconcerned he was about having such a menial task thrust upon him. Ordinarily, he would be annoyed. Ordinarily, it would offend his sense of personal dignity to fetch and carry for someone. _Ordinarily_ , well...ordinarily Matthew Garcia simply did not run errands. But today, it didn't seem to matter. He felt calm. He felt content. He felt...mellow. Perhaps it was the good company.

"Fine," Matthew nodded, "I'll go myself. You can wait here, Veronica."

Whether it was because of the weed he'd ingested or Matthew's apprehension about her not accompanying him to the ball, it still astonished Veronica that he had offered so quickly. Such willingness to perform a personal chore for someone else was completely out of character for Matthew Garcia, and she had anticipated having to cajole him into it. She had a sudden fear that his easy acquiescence might have thrown off their timetable, and she hoped to god that Loretta was in position, that Mac was all set, and that everything was in play.

She sagged with relief when she noticed that Logan and Mac had both disappeared from the room, and that all was no doubt in readiness. Act I, Scene 2 was about to begin.

xxxxxxxx

As Matthew headed down the hall toward the elevator, no one was more surprised than he that he'd offered to fetch the medication himself. But they'd all just stood around as if the situation would resolve itself. He'd expected that one of the others might volunteer, but maybe they thought it was his place to go.

He shrugged inwardly, and pressed the button to recall the elevator, thinking contentedly that everything in his life was well in hand, that he didn't really mind taking this trip to the lobby store. He would fetch the medicine, they would leave the party for the ball. His...associates...would see that all was well with Veronica. Then he would have several days to decide how to handle his disclosure to _Padrino_ that he and Veronica would not be marrying after all.

Matthew was filled with optimism. They would understand that it made no difference. In some ways he would miss Veronica, but he didn't need her. He would work twice as hard and he would prevail. He would accomplish this task they'd set for him, he would make _Padrino_ proud of him once more. Self-doubt fled as serenity overtook him.

There were several elevators in the hotel, but only one reached the lofty heights of the penthouse suites. Matthew had thought that it might be a long wait for the one elevator, but surprisingly, within a very short time the doors opened in front of him. He stepped in and pressed the button for the ground floor, his hopes high that the elevator wouldn't need to make any stops on its way down.

Matthew's optimism was warranted until the seventh floor, when the lift stopped suddenly to allow a passenger on. Matthew glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and noted that she was a very attractive woman, dressed in a bright yellow evening gown. She smiled at him briefly, politely, and then her eyes moved away. He once again pressed the button for the lobby, although he knew very well it wasn't necessary, that the elevator would continue downward without his help.

The doors closed and they'd descended perhaps half a floor when the elevator suddenly ground to a shuddering halt. Matthew and his companion were jolted and fell towards each other. Matthew was able to retain his footing, but his body shifted and he lightly jostled the woman, and she fell to the floor of the car. Matthew was aghast at his clumsiness.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed in sincere apology, bending down to assist her.

The woman looked up at him with a wry smile. "Are you responsible for the elevator stopping so abruptly?" she asked.

"Ah, well, of course not," he said, perplexed. "But I...I bumped into you and..."

The woman grabbed the hand he offered and hoisted herself easily to her feet.

"Yes, you did," she said, her smile widening, "but I'm pretty sure that was only because you lost your balance when we stopped."

"Perhaps so," Matthew conceded, amazed at her equanimity. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head in dismissal and the incident was over. They gave each other polite small smiles in anticipation that the car would begin moving again momentarily.

Fully three minutes passed in silence, and then Matthew bowed slightly to his companion and made a suggestion.

"Perhaps I'd better use the emergency telephone," he said, and she nodded in agreement. But whatever had caused the elevator to stop so abruptly had apparently affected the phone as well, as it did not appear to be working. Matthew shrugged and reached into his pocket for his cell, only to find that it wasn't there.

Could he have left it at home? Or perhaps it...fell out in the taxi? Matthew Garcia never went anywhere without his phone.

"May I...that is, do you have a phone?" he inquired politely of the woman.

"Usually I carry one, but not tonight," she said, smiling. "I didn't think I'd need it. Oh, dear," she added, seeing his expression. "It does appear that we might be stuck here for a little while." She peered at him closely. "You're not...claustrophobic, are you?" she asked carefully.

"Certainly not," Matthew said, just a tiny bit affronted. "I'm just in a hurry to get something for...a friend." Friend? Why had he used that term? Well, why not? he decided. Veronica wasn't his fiancée any longer.

She smiled at him sympathetically. "I'm sure they'll have it fixed soon," she said calmly.

For the first time, Matthew gave his full attention to the woman, and was struck by how very lovely she was. She was like an older version of Wallace's Emily, but this woman would never see forty again. Then again, he reminded himself, neither would he.

She turned toward him suddenly. "I wonder," she said with a friendly smile, "that is...we don't know how long we might be stuck here, so perhaps we should introduce ourselves."

She held out her hand, and her smile widened to reveal a small dimple in her right cheek.

"I'm Chandra James," she said.

Matthew took her hand, bowing over it slightly, and smiled his own charming smile. "Matthew Garcia," he said.

And as he took her hand, and smiled into her eyes, Matthew felt a warmth spread over him that he hadn't felt in a long time. And suddenly, he was reminded not of Emily Taylor upstairs in the penthouse suite, but of that long-ago girl whose smiles had always filled him with breathless anticipation.

It was a ridiculous fancy, he knew, but he asked Chandra abruptly, "You're not from...LA, are you?"

"No, no," she answered pleasantly. "Boston."

She looked down then, and Matthew realized that he was still holding her hand. Realized he was reluctant to let it go. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, and when he looked up, he could see that her golden skin had darkened with a blush.

"You're making me feel like a schoolgirl, Matthew," Chandra laughed. Matthew thought how perfectly that remark fit in with his fancies about this woman.

Chandra pulled her hand away, but her smile remained.

"You look like you're dressed for a special event," she said curiously.

"Indeed," he nodded. "We are all...that is, there are several in our party...and we are going to the Charity Ball at the Bayside Ballroom. And you?" he asked.

"As it happens, we'll be attending the same event," Chandra answered, giving him a coy look.

Matthew could not believe his good fortune. He couldn't remember ever being attracted to a woman so completely and so quickly, not even Veronica. Certainly not his ex-wife. His pulse was racing and he could even feel the stirrings of desire in parts of his body that did not usually come into prominence until much later in the evening.

"How very...fortunate," he told her meaningfully. "I'll be certain to look for you there."

Chandra looked into Matthew's eyes and her mouth curved into a smile.

"Would it be too forward of me to say that I hope you find me?" she answered flirtatiously.

And while Matthew was looking into her eyes and thinking about the happy coincidence that had led him to be stuck on an elevator with the grown-up version of his long-ago dream girl, his companion was thinking something very, very different.

She was thinking, _I'd say this one is bagged and tagged._

And while she was thinking those thoughts, and distracting him with her smile, she was reaching into her evening bag for the phone that she didn't have, and she was pressing a number that signaled 'Mission Accomplished'.

Within thirty seconds, the elevator groaned into operation, and once more began its rapid descent toward the lobby of the St. Regis Hotel.

xxxxxxxx

As soon as Matthew left the suite on his errand, a collective sense of relief settled over the rest of the occupants. Many of them hadn't understood beforehand the level of tension that could arise from such a situation.

Veronica wanted to rush into the bedroom immediately to see what was happening with Logan and Mac, to make sure that everything was going according to plan. But first, she had to find a place for Matthew's telephone. The one she'd slipped out of his suit pocket while he was preoccupied with Evie. Veronica hadn't had to put her pickpocket skills to use in quite a while, so she was happy to find that she was nearly as nimble as she'd ever been.

She'd almost decided to leave it on a side table and try to convince Matthew that he'd left it there himself. If she was very lucky, and he was fully toasted, she might even be able to find a way to just slide it right back into his pocket.

"If you want, I can tell him I found it on the floor," Evie said, startling Veronica, who had completely forgotten that the other girl was still beside her. Still standing there in her designer dress, wearing her impossibly high heels, and showing off her impossibly long legs.

"Do you think he'll believe you?" Veronica asked skeptically.

Evie shrugged. She answered Veronica's question with one of her own. "Why shouldn't he? What reason would I have to lie?" she said with a wry smile.

Veronica laughed softly, gratified that Evie was able to understand the importance of ensuring that their plan worked, not only for Veronica's sake, but for Matthew's as well.

"So, are you enjoying your date with Logan?" Veronica asked her, trying not to let her eyes drift to the closed bedroom door.

Evie stared at Veronica. "Well, sure," she replied acerbically. "I always like to date guys who treat me like I'm twelve years old." She sighed. "Veronica, I don't know why you'd even ask me that question. You know as well as I do that this is all for show. All to fool Daddy. Logan has been very sweet to me, but he loves _you_. _Only_ you. Don't expect me to believe you don't know that."

Veronica was brought up short by Evie's directness, but the girl had gone out of her way to help Veronica, and at considerable personal risk to herself. So although she didn't enjoy talking about her private life, especially with someone she knew as little as she knew Evie, she thought she might try to make her understand.

"Evie," she paused, pondering the best way to explain without revealing details of her life she'd rather keep to herself.

She started again. "Logan and I have been through this so many times. You wouldn't believe how many times. Since we were 17." She sighed. "It isn't that there aren't...feelings. That we aren't...into each other."

She closed her eyes, thinking of how many different ways their lives had become entangled over the years.

"We've had every kind of relationship you can imagine," Veronica tried to explain. "We've been friends, lovers. For a while we were sworn enemies." Evie's eyebrows rose at that. "And - as you know - for a short time...we were married. But we can never seem to make...the good parts...last long. Everything is all right for a while, but then..."

"But then?" Evie prompted, studying her intently.

"Then...things start to fall apart. It's not always the same reason every time, but we just can't figure out how to make it work..."

"Then, dammit, Veronica," Evie said forcefully, yet keeping her voice low, "you're not trying hard enough! Do you know what I wouldn't give to have a 'Logan' in my life? Okay, maybe not the exact model that you've got, but _someone_ who puts me ahead of every other person on the planet? Who wants to know what will make me happy and will do whatever he has to do to make that happen, no matter what the hell it is?"

Veronica tried to interrupt, but Evie was on a roll.

"And it would be one thing if he were some toad," she continued, "some stalkerish creep that you couldn't like if he were the last guy on earth. But he isn't. He's Logan. Crazy hot Logan. And I'd have to be an idiot not to see that you're nuts about him, too!"

Evie stopped abruptly, as though she couldn't quite believe she'd said all that to someone like Veronica Mars. She took a deep breath.

"I'm...sorry. I didn't mean to, you know, go off on you like that."

Veronica didn't know what to say, so she opted to say nothing at all. Evie was still so young, so optimistic. Had she herself ever been that hopeful about life? So sure things would turn out well as long as you really wanted them to? Even tonight, if she were being honest, did she really feel any sort of certainty that all their plans would simply work out?

Her eyes drifted again to the bedroom door.

"Look, Veronica," Evie said, exasperated, "why don't you just go and see what Logan is up to? I'll take care of Daddy's phone."

She held out her hand, and Veronica dropped Matthew's phone into it.

"If you're sure," Veronica said.

Evie just rolled her eyes.

Veronica wasted no more time, moving toward the bedroom and opening the door just in time to hear Mac say to Logan, "Okay, she's on the elevator. Now I'll just..." She hit a couple of computer keys and grinned suddenly.

 _"Errrrk!"_ Mac said, approximating the sound of a multi-ton elevator coming to a sudden stop.

Logan looked up from the computer and his face lit up when he saw Veronica standing there.

"Everything going as planned?" she asked, grinning at the other two.

"Just doing my little magic tricks," Mac said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Hacking into the system was the easy part. The hard part was figuring out the logistics. How long would it take for the elevator to reach the seventh floor? How could I keep it from stopping, even if there were people waiting on the upper floors? And the damned telephone! That was a totally different program!"

Mac stopped suddenly when she realized that neither of her companions was listening to her, but were instead staring at each other intently. She sighed and shook her head.

"I'll just leave you two..."

_"No!"_

It was said in chorus, in panicky tones that Mac had never heard from either of them before.

Logan cleared his throat."You can't leave, Mac," he insisted. "Loretta could call at any time to let us know that everything is all set. So, nope, you've gotta stay right here."

"He's right, Mac," Veronica said.

"Fine," she said, not fooled at all. After all, she'd been there this afternoon when they'd walked out of this room, so she knew exactly what her position was here. _Chaperone._ And she wasn't liking it at all.

They were all silent for a few minutes, as Veronica and Logan tried valiantly to keep their eyes off each other.

"You look beautiful, Veronica," Logan said, finally unable to contain himself, and Veronica blushed with delight. He grinned and asked "Are you wearing your new shoes?"

Veronica lifted her dress a few inches to reveal the strappy silver sandals that had been her sole purchase the day before at the shoe store.

"How about you?" she asked, smirking at his feet, just as she had earlier in the outer room.

Logan pulled up his pantleg in the same manner that she had just lifted the hem of her dress and simpered, "Of course. Aren't they gorgeous?"

They both went off into peals of laughter, and Mac shook her head, wondering how it was that Logan and Veronica could somehow make even the mutual purchase of footwear seem sexy and intimate and hilarious.

"You know, I could leave just for a minute..." she tried again.

"NO!" they shouted, both turning in her direction at once, and she understood suddenly with what difficulty they were holding themselves in check. She wondered how they were going to make it through the rest of the evening.

"So how long have they been stuck in the elevator now?" Veronica asked.

Mac looked over at the clock on the bedside table, "About ten minutes," she said, and the words were no sooner out of her mouth than Logan's burner phone beeped with the pre-prepared text that he and Loretta had agreed upon.

He looked down and read, _the pigeon has been plucked._

He nodded to Mac who lost no time in restarting the elevator. She grinned, and clapped her hands together, the very image of self-congratulation. Veronica and Logan looked at each other, the same thought in both their minds. _This has got to work._

Mac took advantage of their distraction to slip out of the room unnoticed and they found themselves alone suddenly. Logan picked up her hand, pulled it to his lips and kissed her palm softly. Veronica smiled at him.

"You know that I'm going stay as close as possible to you tonight, but even if I'm not right there beside you, I'll be looking out for you," he said.

"I know, Logan," she said. "You've been looking out for me for days now." She quirked a smile and corrected, "For years now."

Logan reached out with his other hand and stroked it lightly down Veronica's cheek.

"And that's not gonna change, Veronica. No matter what happens after tonight."

He looked into her eyes and sighed. "I'm tired of pretending otherwise."

Before she could respond, he tugged at her hand and said, "Better get out there before he gets back."

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By the time Matthew returned to the suite with Veronica's nausea meds, he was hoping that his encounter with the exotic woman in the elevator wasn't some sort of hallucination. He was feeling distinctly unlike himself and wondered if perhaps Veronica's illness was something more than simple nausea, and if he might be suffering from it, too.

Alicia opened the door with a relieved smile.

"Matthew! We were getting a bit concerned about you. Did you have trouble finding the store?"

Matthew thought again about what a comforting woman Alicia Fennel was, and was sorry he hadn't gotten to know her sooner.

"I know it's hard to believe, Alicia, but I was actually stuck in the elevator for quite a while. You'd think that in a hotel of this caliber, such incidents wouldn't occur, but I can assure you that it did."

The expression on Alicia's face was a mixture of horror and sympathy.

"Stuck in the elevator! How awful! What did the hotel staff say about it?" Alicia looped her arm through Matthew's and walked him back into the suite.

"I didn't bother to ask," he said. "It seemed...pointless...after the fact. And I wanted to bring Veronica her pills as soon as possible. How is she?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Alicia said, taking the pills out of his hand. "I can I bring these to her right now. Why don't you sit down for a minute, Matthew? Maybe have a little more bread? I managed to save you most of the pieces on this dish," she told him with a conspiratorial wink, "although this crew of hungry locusts managed to polish off every piece on the second plate."

Alicia sat Matthew down on the couch and placed the platter of bread squares on the coffee table in front of him. Mac and Dick soon joined him, sitting on either side of him, and bringing with them another "Mackie special."

"Oh, my god, Matthew," Mac said. "Alicia just told us you got stuck in the elevator. What a terrible thing to have happen! It must have been awful." She shuddered in commiseration.

"It was...unexpected," Matthew answered truthfully.

"Were you all alone," she asked off-handedly, "or did you at least have someone to talk to, maybe make it a bit less...frightening?"

Something flickered in Matthew's eyes.

"No," he said finally, "no one else was there. I was...alone."

"You know, Dude, when shit like that happens, you gotta just roll with it!" Dick boomed, slapping Matthew on the back. "Another one of Mac's specials and you'll forget all about it, right?"

"Well, perhaps I could use a drink," Matthew conceded, picking up the glass. "And maybe one of Alicia's squares."

"Dude! You better eat those things. She wouldn't let us touch 'em! Said she was savin' 'em for you!"

So Matthew ate and Matthew drank, and pretty soon that feeling of contentment returned. And he wondered again about the beautiful woman in the elevator. _Chandra._ Even her name was exotic. And she was attending the ball, too. Would he be able to find her? The anticipation nearly overwhelmed him.

"Matthew?" It was Veronica, come to fetch him, no doubt.

"Veronica? Is it time to go?" he asked. "Is everything as it should be?"

Veronica held out her hand for Matthew as he rose. "Yes, Matthew, I believe it is," she said. She looped her hand through his arm, at the same time slipping the phone she'd retrieved from Evie back into his pocket.

They exited the suite in groups, and streamed down to the elevator. Several trips were required to transport them all to the ground floor where the limos that Logan had hired were waiting for them in front of the hotel.

Keith and Alicia were the last to leave the suite, Alicia insisting that they should at least put away the food and turn out the lights. When she finally came out of the kitchen and picked up her purse, she found Keith staring at her with an odd look on his face.

Alicia quirked a brow at him. "What?" she said.

Keith smiled at her and shook his head. "I always knew you were an amazing woman, Alicia Fennel, but I had no idea, no idea at all."

He chuckled. "Veronica's been making comments all night about how she loves her friends but they shouldn't quit their day jobs for a life of undercover work. But I think you could quit your day job, Alicia, because I'm pretty sure you could do anything."

Alicia smiled. "Believe me, Keith, this is enough intrigue to last me a while. But thanks for the vote of confidence," she said, closing the door behind them.

"And," he added, taking her arm as they walked down the hall toward the elevator, "you even knew how to tie this dad-blamed bow tie!"

"Well, okay, that is a useful skill," she conceded with a laugh.

Since they were the last out of the suite, they were also the last into the limo, and slid into the seats directly behind the driver.

"All set, folks?" the chauffeur asked pleasantly.

"We're the last," Keith answered, glancing down at Alicia, "so I'd say we're ready to go."

His voice was steady, but in the soft light of the spring evening, Alicia could see the anxiety in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

"Keith," she said quietly, grabbing his hand in both of hers. "I promise you that this evening is going to be exactly what we want it to be. Exactly."

Alicia felt a wave of fierce protectiveness, and she wondered fleetingly when it was that they had all become so important to her. Again. Important to her again.

Keith squeezed her hand, accepting the comfort of her assurances as the limo pulled out into the heavy Saturday evening traffic.

"I'm glad you decided to come," he said, managing a small smile.

"Yeah," she said. "Me, too."


	19. Part II - Chapter 14

Part II - Chapter 14

The Charity Ball for the Homeless was one of the premier social events in the Bay Area for anyone who was anyone. Or for anyone who aspired to become someone. And sometimes for those who simply wanted to flaunt the fact that they were wealthy enough to afford the ticket.

The venue for the event was the elegant Bayside Ballroom, which charged the sponsors an outrageous amount, several hundred dollars per plate, in fact, for indifferent canapés and second-rate champagne. But since the tickets were sold for more than ten times that amount, there was still plenty of cash left over to pass along to the charity.

Over the years, political wags and pundits had questioned why San Francisco's wealthy couldn't simply make their donations directly to the charity of their choice. But those naysayers were missing the point. For if the city's elite were to be expected to be charitable, they must at least be allowed a ritual celebration of their mutual philanthropy.

Matthew Garcia had never before attended the ball. Or any other charitable event where the price of a single ticket had seemed to him to be confiscatory. But this year he'd had no choice. His participation had been expected by his political "backers," but no one had stepped forward to subsidize the cost. So Matthew had gritted his teeth and sprung for two tickets, and told himself what a humanitarian he was.

And Logan Echolls had bought twelve. _Twelve tickets._ When Matthew had arrived at the suite and noted the number of partygoers, he'd been aghast. The man whose formative years had been spent in near-poverty had been unable to suppress his resentment of the man who had grown up so wealthy and so privileged that he would spend such an outrageous amount just to satisfy a whim. Just because he could.

But that had been earlier. That had been before the tranquility had settled into Matthew's soul. Before he'd met the woman on the elevator, before he'd glimpsed his last chance at real happiness. Before he'd forgotten that he was beholden to some very dangerous men.

Before, in fact, he'd lost his mind.

By the time their large party had arrived at the ballroom, Matthew Garcia's entire focus had shifted to locating Chandra James and finding a way to reconnect with her.

It's probable that the few brain cells that were responsible for critical thinking were making frantic attempts to send messages that it was irrational to be so obsessed with someone he'd met for ten minutes on an elevator. But they'd mostly been given the night off, having been silenced by the weed-addled synapses that were firing in all directions and screaming at him to go for it. And by the other parts of his body that were acting as cheerleaders for this new obsession. _Go, team_ , _go!_

As promised, the organizers had set aside a separate table for the Echolls Party, as their group was being called. It was unclear whether someone on the organizing committee had actually recognized the Echolls name or if there was merely a certain fascinated curiosity about the kind of man who would purchase twelve outrageously expensive tickets to a charity event 500 miles from his home.

Logan had requested a round table, but there were none large enough to accommodate 14 people, so the organizers had thrown together two long, narrow tables width-wise, so that two could be seated at each end, with five along each side. Logan pronounced it acceptable.

Mathew and Veronica sat at one end of the table, and Mac and Dick at the far end. The others arranged themselves along the sides. There was no actual meal served at the ball, but throughout the evening, a stream of hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, along with bottles of chilled champagne, were continuously placed along the length of the table.

"What do you think, Mac?" Dick said quietly to the woman beside him, as he eyed the man at the far end of the table. "Do we need to ply our buddy down there with some vino?"

He looked at the label on the bottle of champagne and shrugged. "It's not exactly Cristal, but it'll get the job done."

Mac eyed Matthew Garcia speculatively. "I'm...not sure. He's still pretty...um...high, from what I can see, and we don't want him slurring his words or worse yet, tossing his cookies."

As she studied Garcia, his focus seemed to shift, to become fixated on something in the far corner of the room. Mac turned, curious as to what had caught Matthew's eye, and was amused when she noted a woman in a yellow dress exiting one of the many doors. She turned back quickly to see that Matthew had half risen out of his seat.

"Matthew! What are you doing?" Veronica asked, dumbfounded, her hand on his arm.

Matthew Garcia looked at his companion as though he'd just remembered that she was there, and reluctantly resumed his seat. Logan smirked, having caught it all from his spot on Veronica's other side.

"I can't believe Daddy," Evie whispered to Logan. "I've never seen him like this before. I know he's high, but what the hell is making him look like he's about to jump out of his skin?"

Logan grinned at her. "What makes you think I have any idea about that?" he asked, but Evie just rolled her eyes.

Several of Matthew's acquaintances began to drift over to their table then, ostensibly to assure Matthew of their political support, but Veronica was certain that what they really wanted was a gander at the rest of the party. From the looks already sent their way as they'd made their way to their table, she knew that word must have traveled quickly that they were in the company of the still semi-notorious but seldom-seen Logan Echolls.

Matthew noticed nothing odd, accepting the attention as his due. In fact, in contrast to his usual reserve, Matthew greeted everyone who stopped by like a long lost friend. By the time the Farnsworths approached, Veronica had shifted into "fiancée" mode, in an attempt to deflect any suspicions that Matthew's demeanor was at all abnormal.

"Jim, Ginny, how lovely to see you," Veronica said, smiling broadly at the couple. She wasn't too concerned when Matthew greeted Ginny with a hug, but when he threw his arms around a surprised Jim Farnsworth, Veronica knew that Matthew had truly reached the zenith of love, peace, and joy, and that she might need to call for reinforcements. As she rose, she gave Logan a swift kick under the table.

"Hey, Jim." Logan rose, catching on immediately.

"Still here, I see," Farnsworth said, shaking his hand. "The wife said we probably hadn't seen the last of you, Logan. I didn't believe her, but then she always was smarter than me," he added with a laugh. "Who are all these folks?" he asked curiously, looking around the large table at the upturned smiling faces.

"Just a few old friends," Logan said, mentally crossing his fingers that someone as canny as Jim Farnsworth wouldn't get wise to the fact that there was anything at all peculiar about their group. "We're using the ball to have a sort of reunion."

"Seems you were right, Gin," Jim turned to his wife with a nod. "Logan's still here. And still around Miss Mars."

The expression "everyone tried to speak at once" could not have been more apt as thirteen individuals opened their mouths in an effort to divert Jim Farnsworth from that line of thought.

Logan got there first. "I'd like to introduce you to my date, Evie Garcia," he said in a rush. "She's Matthew's daughter."

Evie rose to do her part, greeting the older couple with a smile, and Jim Farnsworth began to look just a little uncertain.

Ginny smiled at them all, then turned her attention to Logan. "Well, if you wanted to combine your reunion with some philanthropy, you couldn't have picked a more worthy cause," she said.  
She rose up on tiptoes then and kissed Logan on the cheek.

"Good luck," she said, for his ears only, glancing at Veronica out of the corner of her eyes.

Logan blinked and then smirked, understanding that Ginny hadn't been fooled about his interest in Veronica, and making an instant decision that any protest would be counter-productive.

"Thanks," he said briefly, hoping that she would assume that the party was a grand romantic gesture on his part to try to win back Veronica. In fact, he realized, it might work very much in their favor if that's the story that made the rounds when it was all over.

As soon as the Farnsworths left, Dick stood suddenly at the far end of the table. "Hey, I think we should toast the man," he said, sporting his trademark grin.

"Which man is that?" Logan asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, hell," Dick replied, "I seem to have missed the fact that Ronnie's little dude is a big deal around here," Dick answered, in full doofus mode.

In his current state of mental bliss, Matthew's brain glossed over the "little dude" moniker, and moved right along to "big deal." Now that the incessant round of well-wishers had left, he desperately wanted to look around, see if he could catch another glimpse of that bright yellow gown, but if Casablancas wanted to toast him, well, he could hardly stop him.

Matthew shrugged and grinned, bowing to the man at the other end of the table, as Keith filled his glass with champagne.

"I give you Matthew Garcia!" Dick intoned.

"To California's next Attorney General!" This from Leo.

"To my future son-in-law!" Keith grinned widely as he made that toast, and Matthew felt a small twinge of guilt. But it was hardly his fault, he decided, if Veronica chose to keep her father in the dark. Keith seemed like a nice fellow, and Matthew hoped he'd be able to get over his disappointment.

Matthew was particularly gratified when Eli Navarro rose, lifted his champagne glass, and said, " _Salud!_ To the man who makes me proud of my Latino heritage!"

The toasts continued, and with each one Matthew's glass was filled and refilled, and he felt obliged to take at least a few sips. When the toasting was over, he knew he was slightly buzzed, but it didn't make him anxious as it had on other occasions. And it hadn't dampened his enthusiasm or his determination to find a certain exotic woman in a yellow dress. Matthew had even begun to rise, seeking a renewed opportunity for reconnaissance, when he felt a tug on his arm.

"Don't you think we should dance, Matthew?" Veronica asked quietly. "It might look odd if we come to a ball and don't at least have one dance."

Matthew swallowed his disappointment at being once again thwarted, and rose graciously. He knew she was right, knew he was there to be seen, but he was nevertheless frustrated

"Of course, my dear," he said to Veronica, leading her out onto the dance floor. Leo and Lisa, as well as Wallace and Emily, rose to join them, flanking them on either side as they made their way through the throng.

"Oh, god, Leo," Lisa told her fiancé, once they were swaying to the music. "I still can't believe I almost blew the whole thing back at the hotel." Lisa wasn't used to screwing up, but then subterfuge had never been her forte.

Leo smiled down at her. "I already told you, Lise, just forget about it. It all worked out okay."

"I don't know how people do this sort of thing for a living," she said. "I can barely tell even a white lie with a straight face."

Leo laughed and pulled her a little closer. "And, believe me," he said fervently, "that's one of the things I love most about you."

He swung her around so that he had a good sightline on Veronica. "Let's just concentrate on keeping tabs on Veronica and let the others do the playacting."

"Now keeping people alive and well? That's definitely more my speed," she agreed with a laugh.

Dancing together on the other side of Veronica and Matthew, Wallace and Emily were engaged in a similar conversation.

"You know, Wallace," Emily said, her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed, "you told me that you and Veronica pulled a couple of pranks when you were in high school. But after today, I'm beginning to wonder if 'pranks' is actually the right word."

Her brows quirked and she looked at him questioningly.

Wallace just smiled that gorgeous smile, the one she'd fallen in love with, and shook his head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Em," he said. "V and I were just kids. What the hell do you think we could have done?"

Emily recognized baloney when she heard it. "You're full of shit, Wallace Fennel," she said, nodding her head. "But just so you know, you're gonna tell me eventually. Every single thing."

Wallace threw back his head and laughed, spinning Em around so that he had a good view of Veronica's back.

"Of that I have no doubt, girl," he said. "No doubt at all."

xxxxxxxx

Back at the table, Dick had asked Mac if she'd like to dance, too, but Mac told him she thought Veronica was sufficiently covered at the moment and that she'd rather talk.

"Anything special you wanted to talk about?" he asked with a smile, as he scanned the area, looking for anyone who looked like he didn't belong.

"Yep," she said. "I'd like to have a discussion about Dick Casablancas."

Dick stopped scanning abruptly and his head whipped around to look her in the eye.

"What about me, Mac?" he asked, puzzled.

Mac looked him over, wondering exactly how to phrase what she'd been thinking ever since Dick had first clapped Matthew Garcia on the back earlier in the evening, and finally deciding to be direct.

"It's all an act, isn't it?" she said.

"What's all an act?" His eyes were wary.

"You. Doofus surfer dude. Dick, the idiot." She watched his reaction as she stated her theory.

Dick's brow wrinkled. "Well, yeah. That was the whole idea tonight, wasn't it? Keep Garcia off-balance, so that he takes the bait for whatever it was you helped Logan plan. Which, by the way, no one's actually told me." He pursed his mouth as though he were offended at being left in the dark.

Mac shook her head. "That's not what I mean, and you know it," she said. "I could see you doing it, Dick. You just throw that stupid surfer dude crap on like it's a comfortable cloak you can hide under. But who's the Dick Casablancas that's underneath?"

Mac looked a little put out, as though she'd been told a big lie, and was just now finding that out.

"Mac..." Dick paused, unsure what he was being accused of, and finally huffed a laugh.

"Are you pissed because you think I'm this sensible dude, and I've just been pretending to be a jerk? 'Cause I can tell you right now that I really am the jerk, at least most of the time. In fact," he continued, as if to prove his point, "I'm sure Wallace would be glad to tell you how bent out of shape they all were this morning that I never let any of them know that I changed my ticket and came up last night."

He shook his head, driving home his point. "That was stupid and thoughtless. Anyone but me would have realized that. But," he added, smiling at her, "you'd have been proud of me. At least I had enough sense to apologize. Even tried to explain to them that usually only Logan gives a damn where I am or if I show up."

Dick gave her a self-deprecating smile, expecting her to laugh along with him at his foolishness. But Mac wasn't laughing. She wasn't even smiling. In fact, Mac looked like she was about to cry.

"I give a damn," she said quietly. "I mean I would give a damn where you were. If you didn't show up. Where you were supposed to, I mean. If you were supposed to be somewhere, but you weren't. I'd worry. I'd care." Mac grew frustrated with her seeming inability to explain to Dick exactly what she _did_ mean.

Dick's brow wrinkled as he studied her face, not trusting himself to accurately read the emotion behind her eyes.

"You know, I'm sorry about...that time...at your house. In Neptune, I mean," he said abruptly. Dick had never really had the opportunity - or the courage - to apologize to her before this.

"I already said I wasn't mad, Dick," she said. "Maybe you just took me by surprise."

But had he, she wondered now? She'd known for a while that Dick had...feelings...for her. She'd just never expected him to act on them. Wasn't prepared. Was that why she'd accepted Logan's plan to fix them up on this date that wasn't a date. Did she think that he'd try it again? Mac sucked in her breath suddenly, realizing that was _just_ what she'd expected.

Dick caught his breath at the look Mac was giving him. It was a questioning look, as if she were wondering about something. Or waiting for something. He knew he should continue scanning the ballroom, but he suddenly couldn't seem to think about anything but Cindy Mackenzie, and how smokin' hot she looked in that dress she was wearing.

Mac noted the very second that Dick's gaze shifted, the very instant that his focus on her became intense, sensual...seductive. Her breath quickened as she watched his eyes drop to her mouth, and she felt, in equal parts, excitement and panic. _This is Dick, for god's sake. Dick Casablancas._ What the hell was she thinking?

She needed to do something fast before she found herself in the middle of a steamy embrace in the very public Bayside Ballroom.

"Maybe we should dance, after all," she said quickly.

Dick blinked, as if he'd just suddenly remembered exactly where he was. He nodded, smiled, took her hand, and led her onto the dance floor. It wasn't until Dick wrapped her in his arms that Mac realized that she'd jumped from the proverbial frying pan into a very hot fire. His hand at her back pulled her as close as he dared, and he whispered in her ear.

"You look gorgeous tonight, Mac. I've been wanting to tell you that all night. And I know you just came to help Ronnie out of a jam, but I still can't believe you actually agreed to this date. Just dancing with you like this...it doesn't seem real."

And suddenly, he was just too close, felt too good, smelled too wonderful. Mac felt like she was on sensory overload. She pulled back a little and looked up into his eyes. Saw something there that amazed her. And she stopped worrying about what other people might think. Stopped pretending that she was indifferent. Stopped fighting with herself.

"Dick," she said. "I like being here with you. And not just for Veronica."

Mac smiled up at him and just as Dick Casablancas thought that the moment couldn't possibly get any sweeter, she moved her head just a little and kissed him softly on the lips.

Dick could scarcely breathe. "Mac," he whispered, staring down at her with hooded eyes. In what was wholly a reflex action, Dick lowered his head to briefly return the kiss, making an extraordinary effort to be mindful of their very public location and the curious eyes of their friends.

The two of them stopped still, right in the middle of that ballroom, their minds whirling and their bodies tingling. If they'd been anywhere else, that kiss would probably have deepened and intensified, and become something very passionate indeed. But instead they simply smiled at one another and resumed their dance. That other dance, they knew, would have to wait until later.

xxxxxxxx

"Well, well," Alicia said to Keith with a grin, having caught the entire byplay from her seat at the table. "I think there might be another romance brewing."

"Could be," Keith answered. "I can't imagine a stranger coupling than Mac and Dick Casablancas, but I've given up trying to make sense of other people's personal lives. Even my daughter's," he said. "I think I'll just worry about my own," he added with a smile.

Alicia nodded and gave a little laugh, agreeing. She may even have blushed just a tiny bit.

"Can I get you something else to drink?" Keith asked Alicia then. "You don't seem to be enjoying your champagne."

"You know, what I'd really love is a soft drink," she said. "A coke or something."

"Coming right up," Keith said, heading to the bar that had been set up in one corner of the room for partygoers who liked a little more kick to their drink than was provided by the unremarkable champagne.

There were several bartenders on duty, but even so there was a small crush at the bar, and Keith had to wait a few minutes to get Alicia's coke. He was lightly jostled by a man to his left who was impatiently jockeying his way into a better position to place his order.

"They really should have set up more than one bar," the man complained, turning to Keith in irritation. "In fact, they should have had bar service at the tables. And it should have been open bar."

Keith nodded absently, not really giving a shit about this guy's problems with the bar, the venue, or anything else. But the man was pissed and just winding up.

"For Christ's sake," he said loudly, catching the attention of everyone around him, "you'd think that when you pay ten thou for a ticket to this bore fest, you could at least get some good booze and some decent service!"

The man finally caught the barman's attention, but by then Keith Mars was standing there with a glass of coke in one hand and a straw in the other, an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

"Hey, pal," he said to the man, who'd calmed down considerably after his order was finally taken, but still waited impatiently for it to be filled.

"Yeah?" the man said, turning to him in irritation.

"Uh, did I hear you say that the tickets to this shindig cost," Keith had to swallow a little before he could get the words out, "ten thousand dollars apiece?"

The man quirked a brow at Keith and asked, "Did you somehow get in without a ticket?"

Keith shook his head. "The tickets were...a gift," he answered simply.

The man guffawed as the barman handed him his drinks.

"Yeah?" he said. "Helluva gift at ten thousand a pop."

When Keith returned to the table, he placed the coke in front of Alicia and murmured to her apologetically, "I gotta talk to Logan for a sec. I'll be right back."

Logan was sitting alone on the other side of the table, his eyes on Veronica and Matthew as they danced and chatted near the center of the room.

"Where's Evie?" Keith asked as he approached and took the empty seat next to Logan.

"I'm pretty sure she got bored with my sedate company," Logan said wryly. "Said she saw a couple of people she knew on the other side of the room and went off to talk to them. How are you and Alicia holding up?"

"Oh, uh, we're fine," Keith answered. He pondered how to bring it up but in the end, he couldn't imagine how, or even why, he should be subtle about it.

"Logan," he asked directly, "did you really pay ten thousand dollars for each of the tickets to this ball?"

"How did you hear that?" Logan wanted to know, turning to give Keith his full attention.

"Does it matter?" Keith asked, but then answered with a sigh. "Over at the bar, some guy was complaining about the crappy service relative to the cost of the ticket. Which he mentioned," he added.

"So then you already know the answer to your question," Logan said reasonably.

"But... _twelve tickets_ , Logan? That's $120 thousand dollars!" Keith just couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Please don't tell Veronica," Logan beseeched him. "She knows the tickets were pricey, but I don't think she has any idea how much they actually cost. And I'd rather she didn't."

Keith nodded. "Of course. If that's what you want."

Neither of them said anything for a minute, but then Logan bent his head toward Keith.

"You know I'd pay any amount, give away every dime, if it meant keeping Veronica safe."

Keith nodded again, understanding quite well the depth of Logan's feelings for his daughter.

"But also," Logan continued, "when I heard what the charity was, where the money was going, I just...I couldn't help but think that maybe...I owed it."

Keith's brow wrinkled. "How so?" he asked.

"Come on, Keith," Logan shook his head. "You can't have forgotten one of my most notorious and despicable escapades in high school. The bum fights? That alone just about convinced the jury at Aaron's murder trial to dismiss everything I said. It made me look like the contemptible jackass that I actually was."

"Logan...you were just a kid!" Keith said. It wasn't an excuse, he knew, for anything that Logan had done, but considering all he'd learned later about what went on in the Echolls household, it at least offered some mitigation for the more disreputable activities of the 17-year-old version of the man. In fact, he'd wondered more than once what had prevented Logan's acting out from taking an even darker turn.

"Yeah, I was a kid," Logan acknowledged, nodding his head, "but I wasn't a stupid kid. I already knew that you didn't treat people like yesterday's garbage, like they're not worth anything. I knew it was wrong, but I just didn't give a shit."

He looked Keith in the eye. "I could never make up for what I did. This is just a drop in the bucket. But I've been thinking that maybe I should look into doing something about the homeless when I get back to Neptune. What do you think?" he asked the older man.

Keith nodded. "I think if that's what you want to do, then you should do it." He clapped Logan on the shoulder. "Let me know if I can help," he added, "although maybe not so much with the cash."

Logan laughed. "I may take you up on that," he said.

xxxxxxxx

While the other members of their party were occupied watching Veronica's back, Weevil and Marisol had taken the opportunity to make a quick visit to the restrooms. Marisol had felt the need, and Weevil thought it wouldn't hurt to know where they were located.

As it happened, engaging in one of life's most mundane activities led directly to an important discovery.

The doors on one end of the vast ballroom opened onto a corridor, which led to a shorter hallway, at the end of which the restrooms were located. The Ladies' Room was elegantly appointed, with an outer room equipped with a counter and stools, and a wall full of mirrors. It was clear that the ladies could see to more than just bodily functions in this swanky washroom.

The Men's Room was not quite so snazzy, but it did offer marble floors and little partitions between the urinals in an attempt to provide some degree of privacy. It was while Weevil was finishing his business and zipping up his fly, his mind a complete blank, that he heard it. Snatches of a one-sided conversation.

A man was on the phone, and he was speaking in Spanish. But Weevil was bilingual, and the language being used didn't at first register with him. Until he suddenly realized exactly what it was the man had said.

As Weevil moved over to the sinks to wash his hands, he focused on trying to discover where in the crowded room the man on the phone was located. He wondered fleetingly why anyone would carry on a conversation in a restroom until he grasped that those were probably the quietest public rooms in the entire building. Between the orchestra and the guests, the noise in the ballroom, and even in the corridor, was nearly deafening.

Weevil finally spotted his quarry, a tall, silver-haired man, dressed, like all the other men, in evening clothes. He was leaning against the back wall, facing away from the room, but his voice was so agitated that it was still relatively easy to hear what he was saying. But perhaps not so easy to understand, unless you chanced to be a native speaker, because the man's speech was rapid and idiomatic.

But one phrase stood out. The one that had caught Weevil's ear. And now...he'd just said it again, and this time it was a whining complaint.

_Ella jamas ha estado sola. She's never alone._

To anyone else who might have heard it, that phrase would have meant nothing. Nothing unusual. Certainly nothing nefarious. But to Weevil Navarro, knowing what he did about the plot against Veronica, it was a huge red flag waving in his face.

Weevil exited the Men's Room, fervently hoping that Marisol would appear before Señor Silver Hair emerged from the restroom. His wish was granted when the door to the Ladies Room opened, and Marisol walked out.

"Eli, what's wrong?" she asked, taking one look at his worried face.

"Mari, _por dios_ ," he said. "you and I are gonna do a little recon work."

Weevil had just enough time to explain the plan to his enthusiastic wife before the silver-haired man emerged from the restroom and started down the corridor towards one end of the ballroom, with Marisol hot on his heels. Weevil turned in the other direction, making his way back to the Echolls table as quickly as he could.

xxxxxxxx

By the time they returned to the table, Matthew felt like he'd been out on that dance floor forever. Surely, he thought, he'd been dancing and mingling long enough, and could now be allowed some time on his own. He had just shown Veronica to her seat when he looked up and saw a beautiful woman in a bright yellow gown near one of the the back doorways. He caught her eye, and she gave him an encouraging smile.

At last! He'd begun to despair of ever finding her in this crowd, but obviously the fates were on his side. With a barely mumbled "Excuse me, I see someone I must speak to," Matthew was off in pursuit of his dream girl. He moved through the crowd as fast as he could, fearful that she was just a vision and would disappear before he could reach her. Then suddenly, she was right in front of him.

"I see you found me, Matthew," Chandra said, smiling at him playfully. "I was beginning to think you were too engrossed in your, uh, _friend_ , to bother looking for me."

"No, no, certainly not," Matthew responded. "I just haven't been able to get away from her, that is, from all of them. It's...quite a large party. And what about you?" he asked then. "Don't you have an escort who'll be searching for you?"

Chandra smiled. "Probably," she said playfully, "but he's such a bore. I've been wondering all night why I even accepted his invitation."

"Well, of course, it's easy to understand why he would pursue _your_ company," Matthew said gallantly.

Chandra laughed and looked at him coyly. "Such flattery, Matthew. Are you trying to seduce me with your silver tongue?"

Before he could answer, the crowd shifted, and they were pushed together from both directions by the crush of bodies. They were now standing so closely together that Chandra was practically in Matthew's arms. His heart began to race.

"There's too damned many people and too damned much noise in this place," he growled in her ear, and she laughed at him.

"Well, it is a ball, Matthew," she reminded him sensibly. "You really must expect the crowds and the noise."

"But I want to be able to...talk to you. Isn't there somewhere we can go, somewhere quieter, somewhere...less crowded?" he begged in frustration, running his hand along her arm and around to her back, pulling her nearly into an embrace.

"Matthew," she said, breathily, as if she were as affected by his nearness as he obviously was by hers. Her hand came up as though of its own accord and stroked along his jaw. They stood staring at each other for a long moment, while Matthew's breathing became ragged and the front of his pants began to feel to tight.

"I do know of one place where we could be alone," she said. "But not now. Right now, I need to get back. But if you meet me here at 10:15, I think we might be able to snatch a few moments together."

Matthew glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 9:30. Three quarters of an hour.

"Soon," she whispered in his ear, and then she was gone. By the time he thought about following her, she'd already been swallowed up by the mob.

Matthew wasn't sure how he'd make it through the next forty-five minutes, so fixated was he on the woman in the yellow dress. He knew he wouldn't be able to simply return to the others immediately and act as though nothing had happened, so he decided to take a walk around the perimeter of the room, perhaps talk to an acquaintance here and there, before he rejoined Veronica and the rest of their party.

xxxxxxxx

Keith and Alicia were dancing and Evie was still socializing with friends elsewhere in the room when Weevil made it back to the table. He went directly to Leo and Logan.

"I found him!" he said vehemently. "The _pendejo_ who's trying to hurt V!"

"What?" Logan asked urgently. "How? Where?"

"Logan," Leo said, stopping his barrage of questions, "I know how anxious you are, but it's better if we let Eli tell us what happened."

So Weevil told his tale about the Men's Room, the snatches of a phone conversation, and the silver-haired man.

"But where the hell is this guy now?" Logan demanded in frustration. "Why didn't you follow him?"

"Hey, jackass, what kind of a fool do you take me for? Just hold on."

Weevil pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text, receiving one back almost immediately. "Marisol still has eyes on this guy," he assured them. "She says he's over by the middle set of windows, but not on the phone anymore."

The men carefully scanned the window area, making every effort not to be obvious. Logan spotted him first.

"Is that the guy, Weevil?" he said, glancing at the man out of the corner of his eye. "There are two women in front of him, one in blue, the other in white?"

Weevil looked around in a seemingly random fashion, and confirmed that this was, indeed, _Señor Pendejo_.

Leo nodded. "Okay," he said, "but we have no guarantees that this guy is working alone. Let's see if he makes contact with anyone else."

From across the room they watched the man, and it wasn't long before he brought his phone to his ear, as though he'd just received a call. They could see him speaking, but he was much too far away for them to hear what he was saying.

Weevil's phone buzzed then and he took a quick look. "Another text from Mari," he said.

"What does it say?" Logan asked.

"Oh, shit!" Weevil said, looking up at the other two.

"Weevs! What the hell!" In his anxiety, Logan was clenching and unclenching his fists.

Weevil took a deep breath. "Marisol heard the guy say to whoever he was talking to..." He paused and started again. "He said to try to get her alone in the Ladies' Room."

"A _woman_? He's working with a _woman_?" Logan shook his head. They'd all unconsciously been looking for a man as the assassin, but this now meant that anyone, _anyone at all_ , could be the person who wanted to hurt Veronica.

Sheer panic hit Logan like a punch to the gut when he remembered that they'd all just gone off to the Ladies' Room. Veronica, Mac, Lisa, and Emily. Leo pulled out his phone to text Lisa, and received an answering text within a few seconds.

"They'd just reached the restrooms," he reported, "but there was a problem. There was a long line, a woman in the line fainted, and Lisa offered to help. The others went into the Ladies' Room without her."

The men looked around. "Where are Wallace and Dick? We need them to call their dates," Leo said.

But Logan wasn't waiting. He was pressing his speed dial for Veronica's number within seconds.

"Veronica!" The others could hear the immediate relief in his voice when she answered.

"Listen," he said quickly, but quietly. "We found one of the people who want to...to hurt you. And there's at least one other working with him, and we know it's a woman and she might have gone to the restroom. So be careful. I don't give a shit if you have to take Mac into the stall with you. I don't want you alone!"

As he spoke to her, Logan had been moving across the room toward the door that opened into the corridor leading to the restrooms.

"Stay on the line with me, Veronica," he said. "Don't you dare hang up!"

He could hear her explaining in low tones to Emily and Mac, and then suddenly the line went dead.

Logan was in a full panic now, striding down the corridor, ever-mindful of the need not to let anyone who might be watching know that any of them were aware that Veronica was in danger. Christ! Even with all his experience in maintaining a facade, he hadn't realized how difficult it was going to be to hide his concern, to mask his anxiety.

He'd reached the short hallway that led to the restrooms and found near pandemonium. Somehow, the lights in both restrooms had gone out, and dozens of panicked individuals were milling about inside, trying to find their way out in the darkness.

Security personnel equipped with large flashlights reached the area within minutes and several of them entered each restroom to guide the occupants out. Apparently, the maintenance crews were also on site, because within a very short time, the lights came back on.

Logan, who'd been joined now by Leo, waited tensely for the women, for Veronica, to emerge.

The Men's Room emptied first, and Wallace and Dick were among the occupants who strolled out the door. They spotted Logan and Leo immediately.

"What's the matter, bro?" Dick asked Logan, who was unable to hide his anxiety from someone who knew him as well as Dick.

Leo answered for him. "Just making sure the women are okay, Dick," he said casually, trying to convey that it wasn't prudent to have this discussion in such a public setting. Dick nodded uncertainly.

At that moment, two EMTs arrived with a gurney, and the others had to forcibly restrain Logan from following the medical personnel into the restroom.

"Let's just wait, Logan," Wallace said, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's arm.

They didn't have to wait long. Only a minute later, the gurney was wheeled back out, only this time someone was lying on it. Logan saw the slight build and the blonde hair and his heart dropped into his stomach for the fraction of a second that it took for him to realize that the woman lying on the gurney wasn't Veronica.

It wasn't Veronica. His lungs started working again and the blood started pumping through his veins. His world had not come to an end after all.

The woman on the gurney was awake and aware, and protesting that she didn't need medical attention. But the owners of the facility weren't taking any chances, and she finally relented, admitting to a horrific headache.

"Good thing I decided to be a blonde tonight," she commented to the man walking beside the wheeled gurney, obviously her escort.

"Well, you've got a pretty hard head." They heard his affectionate comment. "But, yeah, I think the wig must have cushioned the blow."

The medical personnel and their patient had no sooner cleared the hallway than the last of the restroom's occupants came stumbling out. Veronica, Mac, Emily, and Lisa.

It took every bit of restraint, every ounce of self-discipline, every well-earned degree of maturity for Logan to control his nearly overwhelming need to grab onto Veronica, wrap her in his arms, and tear her away from anyone who might want to hurt her. He desperately wanted to just stand there and howl, "Enough!"

But when she looked up at him, Logan saw the steely resolve in her face. Veronica was pissed.

"Let's go back to the table," she said. "I don't want to talk here."

"What about Garcia?" Logan asked. "This isn't a conversation I want him to hear."

Veronica shrugged. She'd figure that out if she had to. But as it happened, Matthew Garcia had not yet returned by the time the eight of them reached the table.

But Keith and Alicia were there, and they were both confused and concerned. Marisol had returned earlier from her reconnaissance mission, but all she and Weevil had told the others was that they thought they'd located one of the would-be assassins.

As soon as he saw her, Keith moved to embrace his daughter, relief in his eyes. But she stopped him with a look.

"I just don't want to give the show away, Dad," she said in a low voice. Then she addressed them all. "This is a party, right? So let's all just sit calmly, pour some more champagne, and I'll tell you what happened."

Dick did the honors, moving around the table until everyone's glass was filled, and then took his seat at the other end, wrapping his arm around Mac's shoulders.

"Okay, Ronnie," he nodded. "I think you'd better spill it soon or my boy Logan is gonna be needing some medical attention himself."

Veronica shot Logan an apologetic look, noting the rigidity of his shoulders and the tense line of his mouth. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to stop herself from briefly touching his hand. "I don't want all this...preparation to be for nothing. I just want it to be...over."

She took a deep breath then and launched into her tale.

"The four of us were standing in the line at the Ladies' Room. A woman fainted somewhere behind us, and Lisa," she looked over and nodded at Leo's fiancée, sitting along one side of the table, "went over to help. As she should," Veronica added. "After all, it's what she does."

"Mac and Emily and I remained in the line," she continued. "We'd just gotten through the door to the restroom itself when you called, Logan," she turned toward him sitting to her left, "with the information about the woman who was...who was after...me."

Veronica swallowed. It was still hard to believe that someone wanted to do her bodily harm. More than that even. That someone wanted her dead.

Veronica sighed, thinking how surreal it all seemed. "I'd no sooner whispered to the others about a woman and the Ladies' Room when the lights suddenly went out. When the lights went out," Veronica paused, obviously overcome with emotion as tears filled her eyes, "when the lights went out, Mac and Emily threw themselves around me...and...I dropped my phone."

Veronica stopped again, as it became difficult for her to talk around the lump in her throat.

"They pushed me up against the wall, and the way they were pressed against me...with the lights out, I don't think anyone could have even seen that I was there." Veronica cleared her throat, trying to recover her equanimity.

"The woman just behind me, who was a little taller than me, and apparently was wearing a blond wig, somehow got shoved against the wall. _Accidentally._ In all the... _confusion_. Or at least that's what she told the security personnel when they arrived with the flashlights. She's probably concussed because she was unconscious for a few minutes, but she was awake and talking before the EMTs arrived. We stayed with her until they came. Lisa had come in behind us, and she looked after the woman before the EMTs got there."

Veronica stopped talking suddenly, as though she just couldn't say another word.

Keith cleared his throat and forced himself to remain calm, but he sure as hell wasn't finding it easy.

"Did you see anything, Veronica?" he asked. "Did any of you notice anyone at all in the Ladies' Room who might have done this?" he said, turning toward the others.

In unison, they shook their heads. They'd noticed nothing and no one.

"And the woman who was hurt," Alicia asked softly, "will she be all right?" She was pretty sure she knew what Veronica must be feeling.

"I...don't know," Veronica answered unhappily. "She seemed okay. I got her name so I'm going to try to check up on her tomorrow." She paused. "It's the least I can do," she said quietly. "It's my fault she got hurt."

"The hell it is!" Logan said tightly, striving for control. "Goddammit it, Veronica! I'm glad she's okay, but even if she weren't, it wouldn't be your fault. _None_ of this is your fault."

"Yeah," she said softly, "I guess I know that. I know it in my head, but sometimes it's just...hard to remember."

They sipped their champagne quietly, and it seemed to strike those around that table all at once that this truly had been a near miss. Veronica was such a force of nature that it was often difficult for those who knew her to remember that she was also small and fragile. That despite her outsized personality, Veronica was still vulnerable.

Keith was upset that he'd had to remind himself. Logan had never forgotten.

xxxxxxxx

In was in this mood of quiet contemplation that Evie Garcia found them when she finally returned to the table just a moment later.

"What's going on?" she said, seeing the worried looks on all their faces.

Logan rose immediately and pulled out her chair. "Nothing," he said with a smile. "The lights went out for a minute while they were in the Ladies' Room, but they're all fine. Sit down, Evie."

Evie sat, but Logan could see that she was tense, that perhaps she had something to say herself.

"Is something wrong, Evie?" he asked, unsure if they could deal with another near crisis.

Evie took a deep breath. "I...I don't know if this means anything, because I can't be absolutely sure..." She paused, shook her head. "That's not true," she amended. "I am sure."

Logan sighed. He'd dealt with Evie before when she'd been upset, and knew he'd have to hurry her along.

"Evie...?" he prompted.

"It's one of the waiters," she said in a rush. "I thought I saw him earlier, but I wasn't sure then, so I went to find him, to see if I was right."

Logan closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "What about the waiter, Evie?" he asked.

"I knew I'd seen him before. In my house. It was a couple of years ago, but I remember him, because he was the one who tried to look down my dress." She paused, looked directly at Logan. "He was one of _Padrino's_ flunkies."

"Shit!" Logan said, alarmed. "How the hell many people do they have in this ballroom tonight?"

They all understood that Logan's question was unanswerable.

The significance of the phrase "one of _Padrino's_ flunkies" was explained to those at the table who were not familiar with it, as they all considered how to deal with this intelligence, this potential new threat.

"Why are you all just sitting around?" a voice asked jovially, jolting them out of their collective ruminations. "Isn't this a ball?"

Matthew Garcia had returned at last at precisely the wrong moment.

"Matthew!" Veronica extemporized quickly. "Where have you been? We've been a little...concerned."

In truth, Veronica hadn't give a single thought to her erstwhile fiancé since he'd left the table, but it would hardly do to mention that they'd been occupied with other matters.

"I thought I'd take a short walk around the room," Matthew said, as he took his seat. "Maybe speak to some of my supporters." He suddenly saw his chance to excuse his later absence, and snatched it up greedily. "A few of them said they wanted to have a conversation about the, uh, campaign a little later," he added blandly.

"At a ball?" Logan smirked, fully aware that Matthew Garcia would not be heading for a rendezvous with any of his political cronies.

Matthew shrugged dramatically, in as expansive a gesture as Logan had ever seen from the man, who was generally a model of repressed inhibition.

"I can hardly afford to turn down any opportunities," he explained casually.

Logan's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sure you can't," he said.

Logan rose then, gently pulling Evie up with him, "Weren't we just about to dance, my dear?" he asked.

Evie nodded and took his arm.

"Why don't you relax and have some more champagne, Daddy," she suggested, kissing her father's cheek. "We’ll be back in a little while."

As Evie and Logan moved toward the dance floor, they heard Dick pick up on her suggestion.

"Hey, Dude! That's a great idea. Let's not waste all this free booze," he said, opening with a loud pop another bottle of champagne.

"Drink up, bro," he added with his goofiest smile, as he moved down the table to fill Matthew's glass.

Evie laughed as she looked back and saw Dick doing his shtick.

"I don't think your friend Dick can possibly be as idiotic as he sounds at this moment," she said.

Logan smirked. "Dick is often a surprise," he said ambiguously.

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By the time Logan and Evie had danced themselves to the end of the ballroom where she'd last seen the spurious waiter, Evie was once again doubting herself.

"What if it's not him, Logan?" she asked.

"Well, then I've had the pleasure of this dance with you, and we can all breathe a sigh of relief," he said.

He felt Evie stiffen suddenly in his arms.

"You'll have to hold off on that relief," she said tightly. "There he is. And...it's definitely him. I...I know it is."

She looked up at him and sighed. "What are we going to do?" she said, her face pinched with worry.

"I'm not sure," Logan said, considering the possibilities. "He's only a waiter, not a guest, so there should be a way to get rid of him. I suppose I can always turn on jackass mode and make a complaint..."

"No!" she said. "You can't be involved. It shouldn't be that obvious."

From beneath her lashes, Evie watched the man as he wove through the maze of tables carrying a tray filled with fresh apéritifs. She studied his attire. He was dressed in black pants and a white shirt, just like the other waitstaff, but his feet were shod not in stiff leather but in comfortable canvas shoes.

And she was struck suddenly by an idea.

"Wait here," she said quickly to Logan. "Don't follow me."

Before Logan could react, Evie had left him standing near the edge of the dance floor, while she moved swiftly, following the path of the ersatz waiter. She could see that the man was intent on reaching his goal, a round table with a party nearly as large as their own. Evie passed the waiter and moved quickly to the edge of the large table, listening to the partygoers and waiting for her chance. It was clear that the members of this party were a little more oiled, and a lot less patient than those in the Echolls party.

"Here he comes now," she heard one of the men say, as he saw the waiter approach. "It's about time! This guy has to be the worst waiter in this place. I hope he's not expecting any kind of tip!"

"And he keeps saying he's supposed to be serving some other large party on the other side of the room. Like that excuses him. Like we're somehow less important. What nerve!" his companion added indignantly, as the others at the table nodded their agreement.

Evie's lips curved in a small smile as she realized that some kind fate had given them an earlier assist with this particular threat. And now she would give fate a helping hand.

Leaving her spot next to the round table, Evie began walking purposefully toward the waiter, who appeared to be fully occupied with carrying his tray to its destination. As she got closer, she could see that he was looking straight ahead and paying little attention to anything on either side of him. So without moving her head or her upper body, and with scarcely a glance down out of the corner of her eye, as Evie passed right next to him, she picked up one of her stiletto-shod feet and brought the heel down hard on the top of the waiter's fabric-covered foot.

His yelp of pain could be heard throughout that part of the ballroom, but Evie was already well past him, on her way back to Logan, by the time the man stumbled toward the round table, lost control of the tray of hors d'oeuvres, and upended it directly onto the man and his horrified companion.

Chicken wings and bacon-wrapped scallops landed with a plop down the front of what were undoubtedly prime examples of haute couture wasted on most unworthy subjects. The man began to splutter and the woman hyperventilated as she glanced down at her ruined apparel. Several of her table mates rushed her off to the Ladies' Room.

The man was practically apoplectic with rage, and he would have liked nothing more than to take out his temper on the clumsy oaf who had caused such damage to his dignity, not to mention his wife's $10,000 gown. But even he could see that that was not going to be possible, since the waiter was lying spread-eagled at his feet, out cold.

Logan was too far away to witness exactly what had happened, but close enough to hear the commotion that followed.

"What the hell did you do, Evie?" he said tensely, when she returned to his side a moment later.

"What makes you think I did anything at all?" she asked, her face the picture of innocence.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he pulled her into his arms and began moving them back across the dance floor.

"Dammit, Evie," he said finally, his mouth quirking with reluctant amusement. "We just wanted to neutralize him as a threat. We didn't want to kill him."

"Maybe you didn't," she said, with a look of satisfaction. "But you do remember that he was the one who looked down my dress, right?"

Logan threw back his head and laughed. "Remind me to tell you sometime about this old friend of mine, Lilly." he said.

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By the time Logan and Evie returned to the table, several of the couples had also moved onto the dance floor. Veronica was dancing with her father.

Matthew Garcia was still sitting at the end of the table, and Logan smirked as he watched the man check his watch every few moments. Dick and Mac were sitting on either side of Matthew, and Dick was regaling him with stories about growing up in the 09er section of Neptune. As Dick talked, Matthew drank, and Mac made sure that his champagne flute was never empty.

As the orchestra ended one song and began another, Veronica and Keith wandered back to the table, and Veronica took her seat next to Matthew.

"Would you like to dance again?" she asked him pleasantly.

"I don't really think I have the time, Veronica," Matthew said impatiently, glancing again at his watch. "Yes, I believe it is time to leave for my...meeting."

"Oh, yes, your meeting," she said. "You'll want to be back in time for the presentation."

"Presentation?" Matthew was already half out of his chair, as well as only half-listening.

"Yes. A presentation to San Francisco Shelters for its work with the homeless. It's the whole point of this ball. Shouldn't you be here for that?" Veronica couldn't resist asking with a sweet smile, her expression one of innocent interest.

"Uh, well, I'll certainly try," he said, doing his best to improvise quickly. "But perhaps the...they'll want to take advantage of the, uh, quiet, to have a, uh, better discussion."

"A _discussion_ ," Veronica said. "Well, I certainly hope for your sake it will be a productive one," she added, as she waved him off.

As soon as Matthew left the table, Logan explained about Evie and the waiter. Veronica looked at the girl with new respect, but also a certain amount of concern.

"Evie," Veronica said. "I can't believe you did that! What if someone had seen you?"

Around the table, there were instant chuckles and guffaws, as well as a lot of head-shaking.

"Come on, Vee," Weevil said. " _You_ can't believe _she_ did that! That don't hold a candle to some of the messes you got into."

"He's right, Ronnie," Dick added. "That was nothing compared to the shit you used to pull!"

Veronica was a little indignant and she looked for support from her two best friends. Mac's eyes widened, sparkling with mirth, as she held up her hands and said, "Don't look at me. I'm Switzerland on this one."

Wallace said, "You're kiddin', right, Vee? I seem to remember findin' you locked in the trunk of a car once, and that's just for starters," he added, shaking his head.

Veronica's lips curved when Leo put in his two cents worth. "Isn't that how we met, Veronica? You needed me to do something that wasn't strictly, uh, kosher," he contributed with a wide grin, hoping that Keith wouldn't ask him for details.

Her father just raised his eyebrows and shook his head, and by the time Veronica finally turned to Logan, she had an embarrassed little smile on her face.

"Don't even get me started," Logan said in a resigned tone. "Not unless you've got several hours to spare."

The others at the table all laughed, as the tension was beginning to ratchet down just a little. They'd found, and apparently neutralized, three of the individuals who'd posed a threat to Veronica. The other operation seemed to be moving in the right direction. And the removal of Matthew Garcia from their midst allowed them to relax a bit.

The orchestra started a new song, and Logan turned abruptly to Veronica. "Let's dance," he said.

Like the rest of them, Veronica had begun to relax, but now Logan had asked her to dance, and while there was nothing that she'd like more, the prospect of being in his arms filled her with a giddiness that she could only hope to hide from her companions.

Logan led her out quickly, because the truth was that he could barely wait to hold her. When they reached the dance floor, he had to remind himself not to pull her too close, not to wrap her up in his embrace like he wanted to.

Veronica and Logan took conventional ballroom dance positions and began to move slowly around the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Veronica saw that Dick and Mac and Wallace and Emily had followed them out to the dance floor, and were dancing on either side of them.

For the first few minutes, Logan and Veronica hardly made eye contact, so convinced were they that everyone around them would be able to see what was going on inside their heads. Finally, Logan chuckled.

"What?" Veronica said, looking up at him inquiringly.

He smiled down at her. "Do you remember the Sadie Hawkins Dance? Senior year ?"

Veronica grinned. "You mean the dance where Gia Goodman was psychoanalyzing you into a frenzy?"

"Until you rescued me," he remembered, smiling into her eyes.

"Rescued _you_? I was rescuing _her_!" she said with a laugh. "You were about to make mincemeat of that girl."

"Yeah, I was getting ready to pretty much slice and dice." Logan nodded at the memory. "Since then I've learned to have a little more control over my tongue. Sometimes," he added, with a laugh.

"What put that night into your head?" she asked, curious.

"I'm pretty sure that's the last time you and I danced together," he said. "Until right now. Unless you remember some other time, some other occasion, because I don't."

"No," she said finally, after searching her memory. "I don't remember any either." Veronica shook her head. "All these years, and we've never danced together. I can hardly believe it."

"Maybe I unconsciously avoided it," Logan theorized. "Maybe, after that one dance, I realized how damned _hard_ it was to just hold you in my arms and not want it to be...something more."

"What do you mean?" She asked, looking up at him quickly.

"Come on, Veronica," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "That night, at the dance, I barely made it to the end of the song."

" _Sway_ ," she said, smiling at the memory. It was still one of her favorite songs.

"Yeah," he nodded. " _Sway_. My hands were sweaty and my knees were knocking and I couldn't think of a _fucking_ thing to say except some stupid quip. So I didn't say anything and neither did you. We looked everywhere but at each other, until you finally looked up at me and then we couldn't seem to look away."

Logan paused in his reminiscing. "But we still didn't say a word."

"Why was that, do you think?" she asked quietly, her eyes glued to his face. By now, they were scarcely moving.

Logan smiled at her affectionately. "I can't speak for you," he said, "but I know what my problem was. I couldn't think of a single thing to say because the girl I'd been pining after for nearly a year was finally in my arms. Speaking would have been impossible. I could hardly even breathe, I was so in love with her."

He paused, and they came to a halt as the music ended.

"Still am," he said.

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As Matthew moved swiftly through the ballroom to the rendezvous point, he felt like he was walking on air.

He knew that he would be a little early, but he'd found himself unable to sit there for one more second listening to that oaf Casablancas talk about growing up rich and privileged. When the idiot talked about the "09ers," Matthew understood that that was some kind of code for everything that he himself had never been. And knew that if he'd grown up in Neptune instead of Los Angeles, he'd have been cleaning the Echolls and Casablancas pools, not joining them in their adolescent hijinks.

But things were different now. _Everything_ was different now. Now, he was rich and powerful. He had standing. He was well-known in the city, and soon that fame would spread throughout the state. At first, he'd been reluctant to give up his private practice to run for public office, but after tonight, he knew that he would embrace this change in his life, instead of resisting it.

As he moved through the crowd and around the tables, Matthew recognized that his change in attitude was all because of the woman he would be meeting in a matter of minutes. He understood now that although she was a fine person, Veronica had never really been right for him. She had never made him feel the way Chandra did, and Matthew was certain that with this new woman in his life, anything was possible.

Matthew felt like he could conquer the world.

When he reached the spot where she'd left him earlier, Matthew was just the tiniest bit disappointed to find that Chandra had not also arrived early, that she hadn't also been unable to wait a second longer to see him. Well, no matter. He knew she'd be there soon, with her long dark hair and her dusky skin, and the dimple in her right cheek that you could only see when she smiled broadly. And her body, curvaceous and womanly. Matthew felt himself getting hard just thinking about the things he'd like to do to Chandra's body.

He stood there musing, his back to the wall and his eye on the closest doorway. Fire regulations required that the door be kept closed, but every time it swung open, he expected to see Chandra walk through it, her head held high and that yellow gown clinging to her body like the skin on a banana. He grinned, thinking how he'd like to peel that luscious fruit.

So it was a while before Matthew understood that Chandra was late, very, very late. In fact, the tiniest niggle of unease had just begun to invade the very outposts of his brain, when the door opened for the hundredth time since he'd been standing in that spot, and suddenly, there she was.

Matthew wanted to berate her for being late, as he would have had she been Veronica, but found that he could not. His relief and his desire were simply too great.

"I'm sorry, Matthew," she said in brief apology, smiling so widely that her dimple appeared. "I couldn't seem to get away. But I promise to make it up to you," she added coyly.

If Chandra been been deliberately late - if, for instance, she had wanted to ensure that Matthew was so filled with anxiety and suppressed desire by the time she reached him that he would follow unquestioningly wherever she led - then she surely had attained her goal.

Her charged look begged him to follow her, and so he did. Out the door, along a seldom-used corridor to his left, and then down a completely deserted hallway that led toward what appeared to be a maze of offices and storerooms. Chandra opened the door to what might have been another storeroom, but what in fact turned out to be a large area that reminded Matthew of the wings that were found on either side of a stage.

Indeed, it appeared to Matthew that there was some kind of curtain on one side of the room, but it had been pulled back partially, and in the center was what seemed to be a very large panel. He could hear the faint sounds of voices from beyond the curtain and the panel, but there was such a buzzing in Matthew's ears by this time, and his mind was so fogged with desire, that it was a wonder he could hear anything at all except his own ragged breathing.

In the middle of the spacious area behind the panel, someone had placed what looked to be an easy chair, one of the old-fashioned overstuffed kind that were quite comfortable, but which would never have found its way into Matthew Garcia's fastidiously decorated condo. But he cared nothing about that now. All he knew was that here was a place that he could at last be alone with his Chandra. A place to sit, to bring her body next to his, to satisfy his growing need.

Matthew fairly raced to that chair, pulled Chandra down on top of him, and within seconds, his lips were on hers in the most passionate and thrilling kiss of his life, and Matthew Garcia forgot everything. He forgot who he was, he forgot where he was, he forgot why he was there. All he knew was that his body was on fire and that this woman was everything he needed.

xxxxxxxx

Once Veronica and Logan had begun to dance, once they'd found a way that they could wrap their arms around each other, at least a little bit, and provoke no looks or comments, they couldn't seem to stop. They kept going through one...two...four dances, saying very little beyond that initial conversation, simply content to be touching. Certainly none of their friends had any desire to try to separate them, least of all Logan's date, Evie Garcia, who simply shook her head and said to the others, "It's about time."

Various members of their party rose from time to time to dance alongside them, trying to comply with the initial mandate of two other couples dancing near Veronica at all times. They'd all taken turns, even Evie, who'd danced one song with Keith (towering over him in her stilettos), while Alicia sat and talked with Wallace and Emily.

All of them except for Keith, Alicia, and Evie were still dancing when the orchestra took its final break of the evening. When the music stopped, instead of returning to their table, the five couples remained on the dance floor, their attention now fixed on a graying middle-aged woman who had mounted a small stage located at one end of the ballroom and stood behind a small podium, waiting to address the crowd.

"Hello everyone," she said cheerfully. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Carolyn Martucci, and I'm chairman of the committee that organized this little extravaganza. I hope that you're all enjoying yourselves tonight."

A polite smattering of applause followed this statement. Carolyn Martucci went on to explain what they did with the funds raised from ball, and when Veronica looked up at Logan, she could see that he was listening intently. Well, he had spent a lot on those tickets, she reasoned, although she was afraid to find out just how much, and he probably wondered where his money was going.

Veronica knew she should be listening, too, but she couldn't seem to keep her mind from wandering, from drifting over everything that had happened over the past nine days, from thinking about all the good friends, old and new, who were even now ranged around her in a loose semi-circle. Dick and Mac were to her right, while the others stood mostly in front of her and to the left.

Veronica's attention turned back toward the stage then, and she noticed for the first time that a very large screen, nearly as large as those in some theaters, had been arranged behind where Carolyn Martucci was speaking and that images were now appearing on the screen.

 _San Francisco Shelters_ , she read, remembering the local organization that was about to get some recognition for their work with the homeless. Veronica gave her attention to the screen and the speaker, and when she felt Logan's arm wrapped around her waist, she was suddenly more relaxed and less afraid than she'd felt in days.

 _Thank god it's almost over_ , Veronica thought.

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In the back of the room, a tall silver-haired man was seething with frustration. Padrino had given him what should have been a simple task, but everything had gone wrong.

That ass Marco had gotten himself assigned to the wrong table and had eventually ended up making a fool of himself. He'd been assured that Marco had experience as a waiter when he'd called in a favor and had him placed on the waitstaff, but apparently it wasn't enough to stop him from tripping over his own feet and landing in the hospital with a concussion.

And then there was Greta, even now standing by his side, asking what she could do to make up for her failure in the ladies' restroom. But the evening was almost over, and it looked like this woman, who seemed to have more friends than anyone he'd ever known, was going to be impossible to corner.

And now they were all standing cheek by jowl, and he knew he'd never be able to cull her from the pack. He wasn't sure he even wanted to try to make his way through so many bodies jammed so tightly together, what with all that pushing and shoving -

_Fuck! He felt like an idiot. What the hell was wrong with him? The answer was right in front of him._

The first thing he'd noticed about the Mars woman was how very small she was. Short. Slender. Small-boned. She looked like a stiff breeze would flatten her. And if she happened to get knocked to the ground in the middle of such a large crowd, chances were that she'd come to some amount of bodily harm. _He could even make that a certainty_.

The man standing next to her - not Garcia, but another one of her seemingly inexhaustible supply of friends - had his arm wrapped loosely around her waist. But Greta should certainly be able to take care of that. It was unlikely she'd be able to knock him over; he looked as though he were pretty muscular under that tuxedo. But she didn't need to. She just needed to jostle him enough so that his arm dropped from around the Mars woman's waist.

This was it, the last chance, he explained to Greta. They had to make it work.

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As Mac stood hand in hand with Dick, she found that she was completely unable to pay attention to what was going on onstage. She knew that she should because this was, after all, her city now. But she was far too aware of the man standing next to her, and of the simmering sexual tension that had enveloped them ever since that first dance earlier in the evening.

Mac's eyes wandered in every direction as she tried to distract herself from what was almost certain to happen before this night was over, but she wasn't really able to focus on much of anything. So when her eyes drifted over to her left, it took a moment for it to penetrate that the woman who had apparently just bumped into Logan, thereby loosening his grip on Veronica, had done so deliberately. And that a tall silver-haired man had pushed through the crowd and was even now bearing down on Veronica.

"Dick!" she hissed, suddenly panicked. He caught her tone immediately, and looked down at her questioningly.

"Veronica...the man...Veronica..." It was all she could get out as she nodded frantically toward her best friend.

Dick turned to his left, where Veronica stood about a foot away, and saw her stumble suddenly, badly. Saw the tall, silver-haired man directly behind her, a man who apparently had some reason for raising his foot off the floor.

His reflexes, agility, and strength honed by years of surfing, Dick reached out his left arm and grabbed Veronica by her right arm, hauling her upright just as she was about to fall to the floor. He pulled her into his body and wrapped her in his left arm until she regained her balance.

"Hey, you okay, Ronnie?" he asked, as though she'd casually tripped on the sidewalk.

"What the hell happened?" Logan asked, seeing Veronica pulled tight against Dick's side.

"Mac's got good eyes," Dick said softly, handing Veronica back to Logan, who this time wrapped her securely in both his arms.

Mac peeked around Dick in time to see that the woman and the silver-haired man had already made their way to the back of the room. Even so, she might have tried to alert Logan, if at that moment all their attention hadn't been diverted and captured by something else. Something entirely unexpected. Something that at first had the crowd gasping, before it descended into absolute silence.

While the four of them had been occupied with their own little drama, the filmed tribute to San Francisco Shelters had finished. In preparation for introducing its Executive Director, the screen had been recessed upward, revealing the stage, which Carolyn Martucci had had every reason to expect would be empty.

But the stage wasn't empty after all. Instead, smack dab in the middle of it, a man and a woman sat in a single chair, locked in the kind of fiery, passionate embrace that should only ever take place in private, preferably in a bedroom, and most certainly not in a ballroom in front of hundreds of other people. The man's moans were so loud that they could be heard clearly in that silent ballroom, and it was hardly any wonder, since it was easy to see that the woman had her hands down the front of his pants and was rubbing enthusiastically.

It was a few moments before the couple became aware that they were not alone. The woman seemed to notice first, and perhaps she had a good sense of self-preservation, because she jumped up immediately, and without ever showing her face to the startled onlookers, she moved toward the back of the stage, and disappeared through a door into the backstage area.

Leaving the man alone and in full view of the now gaping, tittering audience. And this was a man they all knew.

"Oh, my god, that's Matthew Garcia!" came the first startled recognition on the right.

Logan saw Jim and Ginny Farnsworth over on the left, near the front, and heard Jim's remark.

"I'd have thought that by your age, Garcia, you'd know when and where to keep it in your pants," he said with disgust, before taking his wife's arm and turning away.

The media photographers who'd been waiting to take snaps of the shelter organization's director now found themselves with a far _better_ story, and were in a frenzy of picture taking. And really, who needed the _Chronicle_ or the _Examiner_ anyway? A hundred smart phones were raised, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that those pictures would find themselves on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram within a very few minutes.

Matthew Garcia sat in that chair, his jacket off, his shirt undone, his hair disheveled, utterly and completely still. He looked not so much like a deer caught in the headlights as a man caught _in flagrante_ in front of several hundred friends, acquaintances, and political supporters. And instead of headlights, there were flashbulbs.

In the back of the room, the silver-haired man gaped, disbelieving, and grabbed his phone, pressing speed dial. He found it nearly impossible to explain the magnitude of this catastrophe to the man on the other end of the line, a man who was so furious that he could barely speak.

"I'll deal with him tomorrow," he said. "Get back here now!"

"But what about the Mars woman?" the tall man asked.

"Pointless now," _Padrino_ said. "Perhaps she was right to want to leave him. Now she'll have to live down this humiliation."

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Much of the crowd had dispersed by then, many back to their tables, and others to the exits, sure that nothing could possibly top the juicy scandal they'd just witnessed. But some remained, waiting to see if there might be further developments.

Veronica, still standing within her circle of friends, decided that this would be the perfect moment to deliver the _coup de grace_. She made her way over to the stage, up the stairs and across to where Matthew sat, unmoving.

"Veronica," he said, when he saw her. "I..I don't know what came over me."

"Really, Matthew?" she said quietly, removing the enormous diamond ring that he'd insisted she wear that evening, and placing it in his hand. "I know what came over you. It was lust. But I am a little surprised, because I didn't think that was something you knew anything about."

Veronica closed his palm over the ring and cautioned, "Don't lose this. I'm sure you can get your money back."

He looked down at the ring in his fist and nodded. "Thank you, Veronica," he mumbled.

"Oh, Matthew," she answered as she turned to leave, a small smile on her face. "You are _entirely_ welcome."

 

 

 


	20. Part II - Chapter 15

Part II - Chapter 15

It was done.

She knew it was probably too soon, that she should wait at least a little while to make sure that they had really pulled it off. No premature counting of chickens. But Veronica couldn't stem the surge of relief that swept through her when she put that ring into Matthew's palm and spoke to him for what she fervently hoped would be the last time.

As she descended the steps from the stage, Veronica had all she could do not to jump for joy, but she noted the pitying looks of the few guests who were still milling around that part of the room, and she knew she'd have to play the game just a little bit longer. She was, after all, the fiancée who was humiliated by the man she loved in front of hundreds of people. A woman deceived. Cheated on. Betrayed.

Veronica could only hope that she appeared sufficiently crestfallen, and tried to keep her eyes downcast so that anyone who might have been looking wouldn't see the gleeful look of triumph that she knew must be evident there. But she needn't have worried. Anyone still left near the stage area was carefully avoiding catching her eye.

She wished she could explain to them all that they were wasting their pity on her. Better they should feel sorry for the director of the shelter organization who'd missed his moment in the sun. She shrugged philosophically, though, when she remembered that his ego was bound to be somewhat soothed by all the cash that would be streaming into his organization's coffers any day now. Not to mention the free publicity.

When she reached the others, Veronica took a quick look back, but by then Matthew had disappeared from the stage, apparently seeing at last the wisdom in making himself scarce.

"He scooted out the back," Logan said, catching her glance.

Veronica nodded. In his shoes, she'd have done the same. Not that she'd ever be _in_ his shoes.

"So what was the big conference between you and Dick?" she asked Logan. She'd seen them with their heads together as she walked back from the stage.

Veronica quirked a brow when Logan hesitated.

"Not that I can't guess," she said, her lips twisting into a wry smile. "I mean, did you really think you were going to be able to hide it from me? I'm pretty sure I can tell the difference between stumbling and being pushed."

Logan sighed and gave her a small smile, nodding at Dick.

Veronica turned to Dick then. "Thanks, Dick," she told him sincerely, silently conceding that if you'd told her a month ago - hell, a week ago - that she'd have to give thanks to Dick Casablancas twice in one week, she'd have been looking to process your commitment papers. But he'd saved her from injury - maybe even saved her life - and she couldn't fail to acknowledge that.

Dick just nodded. "I'm glad you're okay," he said, sounding as though he might actually mean it. "But if you want to thank someone," he added, indicating the woman next to him, "it really should be Mac. She's the one with the eagle eye."

"Well, I guess I have you both to thank, then." Veronica paused, appeared to be considering. "It pains me to say this, but you seem to make a pretty good team," she added, wincing ever so slightly.

Mac and Dick caught the wince, and they both laughed.

"I certainly don't want to cause you any pain," Mac said, looping her arm through Veronica's.

"So what the hell _did_ happen, Mac?" Veronica asked. "I mean, what did you see?"

Mac considered, going over the sequence of events in her mind,

"I saw a woman bump into Logan, but it took a moment before I realized she'd done it deliberately. Then there was the tall guy, but I hadn't seen him before, only heard him described, and by the time I figured it out, you were already going down."

Mac sighed. "I should have been quicker," she lamented, "but at least Dick was able to grab you before you fell."

Veronica looked at her and shook her head. "That's twice you saved me today," she said, feeling quick tears spring to her eyes. "You never let me down, Mac. You're always there when I need you."

And they both knew that Veronica wasn't just talking about today, or this week, or even this year.

Mac smiled suddenly. "Well, Bond," she said. "I can't imagine what I'd do without you."

Veronica grinned. "You haven't called me that in years," she said.

Mac's smile widened. "Somehow it seems appropriate today," she said. "Can't imagine why."

"Me either, Q," Veronica responded with a laugh.

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The other three couples who'd been out on the floor straggled back to the table. Those who had known about the plan in advance felt enormous satisfaction that they'd been able to pull it off. Those who _hadn't_ known, who hadn't understood why it had been so important for Matthew Garcia to take that elevator ride earlier in the evening, well, those people tried to wrap their heads around what had just happened.

"Who was that woman?" Lisa asked her fiancé as they walked back to their table. "The woman who was with Matthew?"

"No idea," Leo said with a grin, "but I can tell you that scene had all the hallmarks of a classic Veronica Mars takedown."

"A what?" Emily asked, from the other side of Lisa.

Wallace smiled and shook his head. "I don't think Veronica could have pulled this one off on her own, Leo. She must have had some...assistance. But I guess she didn't need any Neptune High records this time, since she didn't ask for my help," he added, his smile turning into a grin.

Emily looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What the hell does that mean?" she said. "You're a teacher at that school, Wallace. You can't just be handing out school records..."

"I was kidding, Em," Wallace said, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. "Veronica is pretty much on the straight and narrow these days. And if she does get the hankering for some excitement, I believe she has a new favorite partner in crime."

"I think _I've_ had enough excitement today to last me for quite a while," Emily said. "Don't get me wrong," she added. "I'm so glad we came and that I finally got to meet Veronica. And I'm happy we could keep her safe, because she's a pretty awesome person. And, I don't know," she continued with a shrug, her brow wrinkling, "I guess maybe we even helped give that...that scumbag exactly what he deserves. Although I'm not sure exactly how."

Emily paused and the others nodded.

"But honestly, Wallace," Emily continued, "when the lights went out in the Ladies' Room and Mac and I had to hide Veronica, I...I've never been so scared in my life."

Emily shivered a little, remembering that frightening moment.

"So I think that on Monday," she concluded, "I'm going to sit in my office, pull up my spreadsheets, and go back - happily - to being an accountant."

She smiled and slipped her arm through Wallace's. "I think just being Wallace Fennel's girlfriend is excitement enough for me."

"That's because your man Wallace got the moves, girl!" Wallace said, demonstrating with a hip swivel and an arm thrust.

"Yeah, I think you can keep your day job, too, Wallace," Leo said, laughing, and Lisa agreed with a smile.

Walking in front of them, the Navarros had heard the entire conversation, and Marisol chuckled.

"I don't know what's the matter with those two," she said quietly to her husband. "I don't think they have any sense of adventure."

Marisol shook her head as she tried to explain herself.

"For the past three months, I've done nothing but take care of Lucinda, and when I go back to school in the fall, I'll be spending all day teaching 6-year olds how to read."

Marisol hoped her husband would understand what she was about to say next.

"I love Lucinda more than anything, Eli," she smiled, and her face took on that soft expression that mothers get when talking about their children, "and I love teaching, too. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else. Not really. But," Marisol looked at Weevil out of the corner of her eye, "this was the most exciting thing I've done in..." she paused, hesitated, "ever," she finished.

"And you were great, _querida,_ " Weevil said with a proud look. "Veronica herself said if you hadn't heard that _pendejo_ on the phone and sent me that text, who knows what might have happened when the lights went out in the bathroom?"

He pulled his wife close and kissed her softly on the lips.

When he pulled back, Weevil could see that she had a speculative gleam in her eye.

"I was just wondering, Eli..." Marisol paused.

Weevil quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Well," she continued slowly, "Keith was pretty impressed with my, uh, sleuthing."

She smiled happily and her voice began to vibrate with excitement "I mean...I have summers off. Maybe he could use some part-time help. Following people or...or...something."

Marisol grew more and more enthusiastic as she expanded on the idea.

A look of horror appeared on her husband's face, but he knew better than to "forbid" his wife's participation in any activity. Marisol Navarro was no doormat.

"Uh, let's talk about this when we get home, Mari," he said. And for the first time ever, Weevil Navarro had some inkling of what Logan Echolls must have suffered for years.

When they got back to the table, it was decided that the three couples who were all returning directly to the St. Regis would take the first limousine. Logan called the driver to let him know that his passengers would be out shortly.

There was a flurry of hugging, and thanking, and plans for future get-togethers, and then the six left, exhausted but exhilarated by everything they'd been able to accomplish. That left Veronica, Logan, Keith, Alicia, Evie, Mac and Dick sitting around the table in a room where the number of partygoers was fast dwindling.

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Evie had known that something was going to happen to her father at the ball. Probably something rather unpleasant. But she hadn't known exactly what. Neither had Alicia, not really, although she might have had her suspicions. But Keith had known, and had even had a pretty good idea of how and when it would happen.

Which was why, when the others moved across the floor to watch the proceedings on stage, he made sure that Evie stayed at the table with Alicia and him. So when it all went down, the crowd of bodies standing between their table and the stage ensured that Evie did not have a front-row seat. By the time that crowd had cleared enough that she had an unimpeded view, Matthew had already left.

Even so, it was clear to the others that she had still been shaken by the events of the past few minutes.

"Where would you like us to take you, Evie?" Logan asked her softly, after the other three couples had left. "Will you go back to Melissa's like you told...your father?"

Evie was quiet for a few moments, while the others waited patiently for her response. But when it came, it wasn't at all what they were expecting.

"It's going to be a mess, isn't it?" she said, looking directly at Logan, who didn't pretend to misunderstand. He'd been in her position far too often himself.

"Yes," he said with a sympathetic smile. "They may be on your doorstep already, waiting like a pack of wolves. And even if they're not there now, they will be soon. I really..." Logan sighed. "I don't recommend that you go home, Evie. Even if...even if you feel bad for...your dad."

Evie nodded, as if that were the response she'd expected.

"I think for tonight...back to Melissa's, and then I'd like to return to London," she said finally. "I don't think it will help Daddy if I'm around. It will just make him look...sillier. If they see he has a grown daughter, I mean."

"I thought your mother sent you here for a reason." Veronica was surprised.

"Yep," she said. "Daddy's supposed to be curbing my tendency to be inappropriately impulsive." She smiled wryly. "But I don't think he's going to have a lot of credibility on that score right now."

"What about a plane ticket?" Logan asked. "I'd be happy to get that for you," he added.

"No need," she said. "I've got an open first-class ticket. I just have to book the flight. But I will need to go home first and get a few things. Do you think I might be able sneak in and out really fast?"

"If we leave right now," he said, pulling out his phone to call the second limo.

Within minutes, the seven had piled into the car and were on their way to Matthew Garcia's Nob Hill condo. When the car pulled up, they suspected that the two men leaning nonchalantly against the building might be the press, but it was unlikely that either of them would recognize Evie.

Veronica was a different story. She'd often been photographed with Garcia lately, so the papers were likely to have her picture on file. In fact, she was pretty sure that a few people at the ball had snapped pictures of her returning Matthew's ring, and that those pictures would be all over social media before the night was over. About those, she could not have cared less. But she had no wish to be seen going into Garcia's condo.

Since Veronica was forced to lay low inside the car, Alicia offered to accompany Evie upstairs to help her pack. When they entered the elevator, Alicia could see how nervous Evie was. There was always the possibility, however unlikely, that Matthew Garcia had returned before them. Her voice was tentative, hesitant, as she opened the condo door and called out, "Daddy?" When there was no reply, Evie sagged with relief, and Alicia could hardly blame her.

They hurried down the hall to Evie's room, where she kicked off her four-inch heels, pulled a large suitcase out of her closet and started randomly tossing in her belongings. Faster and faster she packed, as jeans, tops, dresses, and skirts were thrown willy-nilly into the large case.

"Evie," Alicia tried. "Do you really need this much? Don't you have some things still in London?"

But Evie kept moving as though possessed, as though something terrible might happen if she stopped, even for a second. When Alicia saw her begin to pack heavy sweaters, she finally grabbed the girl's arm.

"Evie, stop!" she said. "What are you doing?"

Evie looked at Alicia with wild eyes, threw herself onto the bed, and burst into tears.

"What the hell have I done?" she wailed, the guilt rolling off her in waves. "He's my father and...and look what I did to him."

She was sobbing uncontrollably by the time Alicia sat on the bed next to her and pulled the girl into her arms. Alicia offered only soft, soothing sounds, knowing it would be impossible to reason with Evie until she'd cried herself out.

"Shh, shh," Alicia said, when the sobs began to subside. "It's all going to be okay."

"Is it?" Evie asked, and when Alicia pulled back, she could see the pain in the girl's face. "What kind of daughter does what I did?"

"The brave kind," Alicia said instantly. "Once you'd heard that phone call, could you have ignored it? Just let something terrible happen to Veronica? Could you have lived with that on your conscience?"

Evie shook her head.

"And even if your father didn't know about it, didn't realize that Veronica was in any danger, he still would have been the indirect cause if she'd been hurt. Or killed. You do understand that, right?"

Evie nodded. "I know that. I do. But still...to humiliate him like that. Keith wouldn't let me see what was happening, but I could hear what people were saying when they came back to the tables. He's a...a laughingstock!"

"Better a laughingstock than dead," Alicia said baldly. "Or in jail. You have to know that Veronica could never have let your father become Attorney General. She's a prosecutor, Evie. She'd have felt duty-bound to report his criminal connections to the authorities. At least this way, he can probably retain most of his practice. The thing that happened tonight, well, those kinds of...indiscretions are eventually forgotten...unless you run for public office."

"But what about... _Padrino_?" Evie whispered. "Won't he be in trouble with...those people?"

Alicia sighed. She really couldn't lie to the girl.

"Your dad made that decision a long time ago," she reminded her. "Long before you were born. At least this way, they'll find another use for him...or...or make him pay them back what they invested in his education. I don't know. None of us know. But I think, in the end, he'll be better off."

"What do you mean?" Evie was baffled.

"Well, consider this, Evie. If he were Attorney General, think about the immense stress he'd have been under every day, trying to hide his connection to this _Padrino_ guy. Being in office like that, it's like having a huge spotlight shining on you every single day."

"Daddy would have hated that," Evie said, smiling for the first time since they'd entered the condo. "It would have made him crazy."

"So really," Alicia said, with a wry smile, "you did him a huge favor."

Evie laughed. "Definitely like that spin," she said. There were still a few unshed tears in Evie's eyes, but Alicia could see that the crying jag had passed.

She rose from the bed with renewed determination, and within a few minutes, Evie had changed into comfortable clothes and packed sensibly. By the time they left the condo and returned to the limo, she was herself again.

It was late by the time they reached Melissa's parents' home on the outskirts of the city. Logan, Keith and Veronica all stepped out of the car with Evie. Logan was reluctant to let her go inside without some assurance that she had a confirmed booking on a flight to London.

"I really can do this myself, Logan," Evie muttered in exasperation. But she nevertheless pulled the paperwork out of her purse and watched as he used his phone to reserve her a seat for the following evening.

"Be sure to call your mother and let her know you're coming," Veronica said.

"Yes, Mom," Evie said drily, rolling her eyes. "And you two," she continued with her patented lack of tact, waggling her finger between the two of them, "will you please get your shit together? I'll expect an invite to the wedding," she finished with a cocky grin. "The second wedding."

Logan and Veronica glanced at each other and then back to Evie.

"Yeah, about that..." Logan began, his brow wrinkling and his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

"A story for another time," Keith said, cutting him off. "It's already nearly one o'clock."

"What story?" Evie asked suspiciously.

"Something for you to look forward to," Logan said, pulling her into a hug.

Logan kissed her cheek and said quietly, "I... _we_ can't ever repay what you did for Veronica, Evie. So if there's ever anything you need...anything we can do..."

"Geez, Echolls," Evie said disparagingly. "I think I prefer the smirky, sarcastic you to this sappy version. Of course, you're still hot, either way," she added cheekily, winking at Veronica.

Veronica just laughed and grabbed Evie herself, surprising them both. Veronica wasn't really a hugger.

She pulled back, slightly embarrassed, and said, "I can never thank you enough, Evie. I'm glad I got to know the real you."

"Yeah, likewise," was all Evie said, but she said it with a smile.

When Logan and Veronica stepped back into the car, leaving Keith to say his goodbyes, Evie surprised him by throwing her arms around him. Keith chuckled as he hugged her in return.

"What was that for?" he asked, smiling.

Evie choked up just a little as she tried to explain. "I never would have gotten through the last week if it weren't for you, Keith. Being able to talk to you every day. I was so scared." She paused, nodded. "But I'm still glad I did it. It was the right thing to do."

"I think you would have been just fine," he said. "You're a very strong woman. Just ask that waiter," he finished, his eyes twinkling.

Evie looked at him affectionately.

"I don't know why the hell Veronica is living here when she has you and Logan down in Neptune," she said, shaking her head. "She's completely crazy."

Keith laughed. "I'll tell her you said so," he said.

"Don't bother," she assured him with shrug. "I already have."

Evie leaned over to kiss Keith on the cheek before she grabbed her bags and rolled them down the walk to the front door. She turned around for a final little wave before disappearing inside.

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When their car finally pulled up to the front of the St. Regis, Keith asked the driver to wait for him while he saw Alicia to her room. She told him it wasn't necessary, but Keith was adamant.

"It's very late, Alicia," he said. "And it's a big hotel. I want to make sure you get to your room safely."

Keith nodded when Veronica stepped out of the car with Logan. It was no more than he'd expected.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Veronica," he said, giving her a hug. He nodded at the others as they all said their goodnights.

The two younger couples walked quickly into the hotel, but Keith took his time helping Alicia out of the limo and walking her into the lobby. By the time they reached the bank of elevators, the others had disappeared.

"It's been quite a day," Alicia said, pressing the button for the lift. "Pretty sure I'm never gonna have another one like it."

"Let's hope not," Keith said, shaking his head. "I don't think I could go through that again. I don't think my heart could take anything else..." He broke off, sighing.

Alicia looped her arm through his. "You don't even have to finish that sentence," she said. "I know how tough it is when things aren't exactly right with your kids. And of course, this _is_ Veronica we're talking about," she added with a grin.

"No father was ever more blessed," he acknowledged with a nod. "Or cursed," he added with a laugh. "Since she was a tiny kid, she's been like a little flame. So full of light and warmth, but it can't always be contained, and sometimes it gets...out of control."

Keith turned to Alicia as they stepped into the elevator. "Course I wouldn't have her any other way, but sometimes worrying about her can be exhausting."

"I'm thinking there's a good chance you might soon be bumped out of your position as chief worrier," Alicia said with a smile. "That man would do pretty much anything for her."

"You don't know the half of it," Keith muttered shaking his head, but when Alicia quirked a brow inquiringly, all he'd say was, "That's a story for another night, I think."

Alicia's room was on the second floor only a few doors down from the elevators, so they reached it quickly. She slid her key card into the slot and the door opened with a click. Suddenly, neither of them knew what to say, and they stood there in silence for just a beat longer than was comfortable.

"Would...would you like to come in and have a drink?" Alicia finally asked hesitatingly. "These fancy hotels seem to have mini-bars in every room."

Keith smiled. "It's very late," he said, "and I don't want to keep you up any longer."

And now it was Keith's turn to be tentative, hesitant. There was something he'd been wanting to say to her for years, and he knew he might never have a better chance to try to make things right.

"Alicia," he said finally, smiling ruefully, "you can't possibly know how much I've regretted what happened ten years ago. I let my concern for you override my better judgment, and I crossed way over the line..."

Alicia's smile grew as she stood there listening, then she moved suddenly, closing the distance between them. "Shut up, Keith," she said, just before she pulled his head towards her and kissed him, softly at first, and then with more confidence when he responded without hesitation.

 _My god, I've missed this,_ he thought. _I've missed this feeling and this woman._

After only a few moments, Alicia stepped back and they smiled at each other. Keith cleared his throat.

"So I was thinking," he said. "Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night...well, I guess it would actually be _tonight_? In Neptune, I mean?"

"You're leaving right away?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you'd want to stay for a while..."

He shook his head. "My work here is done. At least I hope it is. I put a lot of things on hold to come to San Francisco on such short notice, and I'd do it again if I had to. But right now, I need to get back."

Alicia nodded her understanding. "Why don't I call you tomorrow and we can coordinate our flights?" she said. "And just so I'm clear, it's a 'yes' to your dinner invitation," she added, smiling.

"Good," Keith said softly, hoping that Alicia couldn't tell just exactly how excited he was at the prospect of renewing his relationship with her.

He leaned over and kissed her again, folding her hand inside one of his and wrapping his other arm around her shoulder.

"Good night, Alicia," he said, pulling away.

"Good night, Keith," she said quietly, just before she closed the door.

As Keith Mars stood there, he wondered how a week that had begun with such worry and concern, with such fear for the safety of his only child, could have such an unexpectedly happy ending.

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"What floor, Mackie?" Dick asked, his hand hovering over the elevator call buttons.

"Fifth," she answered. "Five twenty-one."

"Nice. Me, too," he said, pushing the "5" button. "Five oh-four. Must be at the other end."

The hour was late, so it wasn't surprising that they were alone on the elevator. They'd left Logan and Veronica waiting for the one lift that ascended to the penthouse suites.

When they reached Room 521, Mac unlocked the door and stepped inside, expecting Dick to follow right behind her. But when she turned, she found that he was still standing just on the other side of the threshold.

She frowned, holding the door open with her hip.

"This door is heavy, Dick. Move your ass," she said, wondering what he was waiting for.

"I...I'm not coming in, Mac," he said, standing rigidly in the doorway.

"Why the hell not?" she asked, confusion showing in her face. He'd been practically pawing her all night and now he wasn't coming in?

"I'm not having sex with you tonight," Dick said point-blank. He wasn't a guy who'd ever been known for playing it coy.

For a few seconds, Mac was speechless. Then she got angry.

"You're not having sex with me tonight," Mac repeated, incredulous. "That's bullshit. I know you want to," she said. "I've been feeling how much you want to have sex with me all night!"

Mac knew she probably sounded ridiculous, but right at that moment, she was too flustered to care.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I've had a hard-on all night. But there's no reason you have to help me out with that. I can take care of it myself," he added candidly.

Mac's mouth dropped open. "Jesus, Dick! You're telling me you'd rather jerk off than have sex with me?" she practically hissed.

Dick shook his head. He wouldn't lie to her. "I didn't say I'd rather..." he began, then stopped, trying to figure out how to make her understand.

Mac shook her head. "I don't get it, Dick," she said. "But I'm done talking about this in the hallway. Get in here before I get really pissed off."

Dick stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, and Mac could see his reluctance. Finally, he sighed, nodded, and stepped into the room just far enough so that she could close the heavy door behind him.

"What the hell is going on?" Mac asked in exasperation as soon as the door clicked shut. "When has Dick Casablancas ever turned down sex? I-is it me? Do you just not want to have sex with me?"

"Of course I want to have sex with you, Mac! Why do you think I've had this boner all night? But I'm trying to be sensible about it. Like we talked about." Dick could hardly believe it himself.

"Sensible. Sensible _how_ , Dick? Because this isn't making any sense at all. You want me, I want you, end of story."

"But it's _not_ the end of the story! I know what'll happen afterwords, Mac. The next time you come to Neptune, you won't want me to come to dinner with you and Logan. 'Cause you'll be embarrassed or some shit that...that we had sex while you weren't in your right mind!"

"While I'm...not in my right mind?" Mac said, repeating his words in disbelief. "I'm not some kid, Dick. I know what I'm doing."

Mac felt incredibly stupid. Dick Casablancas, who'd sleep with anything that moved, was apparently trying to find a way to let her down easy.

"Look," she said bluntly, hurt and confused by his apparent rejection. "If you don't want to have sex with me, just say so. I never thought you were a liar, Dick."

"Goddammit, Mac! You know I'm not lying!"

"How do I know?" she hissed. "Because this crap about me being embarrassed is bullshit!"

Dick couldn't stand it. It was making him crazy that Mac thought he didn't want her when it was taking every ounce of the willpower that he hadn't even known he possessed to leave her alone. And he could see that he was upsetting her.

"Mac," he said softly, stepping a bit closer. Close enough to stroke her cheek.

Mac searched his eyes, and must have found what she was looking for, because she moved closer still, until she was suddenly right up against him. And then she was kissing him, and - goddammit! a man had only so much willpower and his apparently didn't stretch very far. Dick moaned and wrapped Mac up in his arms, kissing her with all the passion and fervor that he'd kept in check throughout the long evening.

"Dick," she said breathily, pressing herself into his body.

Dick groaned and wondered why the hell he was doing this to himself.

"No, Mac," he said, putting her away from him with all the resolve he could muster. "We can't do this. I...I just wanted you to...to understand that it's not because I don't want you. It...It's because having you as a friend means more to me than some _stupid_ one-night stand."

Dick knew that sometimes he wasn't good at explaining himself, but tonight he wanted to get it right.

"What I'd really like to do is rip that dress off you and then figure out how many different ways I can make you come before we're both too exhausted to move."

Mac swallowed when she heard him allude to a night of sexual abandon, something she'd never experienced in her life.

Dick closed his eyes as if trying to rid himself of the images he'd just conjured up. It took him a moment before he felt able to continue.

"But I know you'd regret it afterwards, and then I'd lose one of the few real friends I've got," he said earnestly, "and the only woman I've ever wanted to talk to at least as much as I wanted to get into her pants. I won't give that up! I want to have dinner when you come to Neptune. I don't want you to have to...to avoid me. I want us to be okay. To still be friends."

Dick broke off in frustration, waiting to see if she finally understood. Mac stood there with her mouth agape, speechless.

When she remained silent, Dick moved toward the door. "Thanks again for being my date tonight, Mac," he said. "I...I guess I'll see you the next time you come to Neptune."

When she still didn't answer, he asked again anxiously. "I will, won't I? See you, I mean."

"Of...of course," Mac said finally, forcing her mouth to open and her voice to work. Dick nodded, satisfied.

"Good night, Mac," he said. For just a moment his face softened with an expression Mac had never seen there before. It was when she heard the heavy clunk as the door closed that she realized that he'd gone.

xxxxxxxx

By the time Logan and Veronica made it back to the penthouse suite, they were practically vibrating with suppressed desire. As soon as the door closed behind them, Veronica turned and found herself pulled into Logan's arms. Then his lips were on hers and her body was on fire with her need for him. No one else had ever made her feel the way Logan did.

He spun her around the room, and they were laughing and kissing at the same time.

"Thank god it's over," he said as he finally stopped moving, pinning Veronica up against the wall and nuzzling her neck. "I don't think I could have kept my hands off you much longer."

"Likewise," she said breathily, trying to remove his jacket and pulling the knot from his tie.

"Impatient, are we?" Logan smirked, shedding his suit coat.

"Well," she said, laughing. "I've got to take advantage of you while I can. Who knows when I'll get to see you again?"

Having successfully divested him of his coat, Veronica moved to unbutton his dress shirt, but his hands stilled her progress.

"Wait." he said. "What did you just say?"

Veronica looked up at him, her face a puzzle. "It's just...you never said how long you were staying in San Francisco, or...or when you might be able to get back. And I know you have this business to take care of, so..."

Veronica broke off when she saw the expression on his face, then frowned when he removed her hands from his shirt.

"Let's sit down for a minute," Logan said carefully, leading her toward the couch.

"What is it, Logan?" she said, confused, as he sat beside her.

"What is it?" Logan repeated her words. "Well, let's see, Veronica. You're still technically my wife, and somehow, over the past week, I got the idea that you might want to take up the position again on a permanent basis."

Veronica was stunned. "I thought we'd discussed that already this afternoon. We agreed earlier - last week - to...to go ahead and have Cliff draw up the divorce papers. You agreed, Logan," she said stubbornly. "I haven't forgotten that."

"Veronica," Logan blew out a breath and turned his head, wondering how she couldn't see. "I can't simply ignore what's between us, pretend it doesn't exist. I don't know why you would want to!"

He knew he was becoming angry, and the last thing Logan wanted to do was lose his temper. He wore his hair short now, so when he pushed his hands through it roughly in an attempt to calm himself, it barely moved at all.

"I'm...I'm not ignoring it," Veronica said earnestly. "That would be stupid. Of course we'll see each other again. It was crazy to cut off contact like that for all those years. I see that now!"

"And what will we be to each other, Veronica?" he asked, his frustration having risen with every word she'd said. "When we see one another, I mean? How should I refer to you? As my - what? ex-girlfriend, ex-wife, sometime bedmate? Something else, maybe? You sure as hell can't claim we're _friends_ when you know damned well we mean more to each other than that word could ever imply."

"Why are you doing this, Logan?" she cried. "I thought we were happy. We had such a great week together! Why are you making it all messy and complicated?"

"It's not messy and it's not complicated, Veronica. It's very, very simple. We love each other and we should be together." _Why can't you understand?_

"But we've tried!" Logan could hear the frustration in her voice, but by now he was equally distraught. "It doesn't...it can't work," she said. "Not like that. Not for us."

He shook his head. There was no arguing with Veronica when she was like this, when that tone was in her voice, the one that said that if she gave in, she'd fall apart. That the only thing holding her together was her conviction that she was right.

He knew that it was past time for retreat.

Logan got up quickly, made his way to the bedroom, and pulled his suitcases out from where he'd stashed them in the closet. He threw them on the bed, unzipped them, and started pulling his clothes and other personal items from where he'd stored them and tossing them into the cases.

"What are you doing, Logan?" Veronica asked, and he could hear that she was close to tears. But dammit, he just couldn't care. Not right then. Not right at that moment. He had to get the hell out of there before she tried to explain to him once again how he could be her long distance fuck-buddy that she'd use to scratch the occasional itch.

"What does it look like, Veronica? I'm leaving. Just as soon as I can get everything together. I'll go to the airport and catch the next flight to San Diego. I'm sure there'll be one soon enough."

"So...you're just running away? Going...just like that?"

"Oh, yeah, Veronica. I forgot. That's your move, isn't it? Sorry I got there ahead of you this time," he spat out in frustration, before he could stop himself.

As soon as he saw the devastation in her face, he said, "Dammit. I'm sorry, Veronica. That was just plain fucking mean and I shouldn't have said it. I know I can still be a bastard sometimes."

Logan stopped his frantic packing and put his hands on Veronica's shoulders. "And I'm not running away," he said quietly. "You know exactly where I'll be any time you want to find me."

She was so small, and for just a second she seemed so forlorn, but when she finally looked up at him, there was fire in her eyes.

"You're such a liar, Logan," she said fiercely.

"I'm a lot of things," he said, dropping his hands from her shoulders and continuing to pack his belongings. "Some of them pretty bad. But not that, Veronica. When have I ever lied to you?"

"Epic," she replied, choking it out. "You said we were epic. But that was just bullshit, wasn't it? Just some words you threw together because you were a horny teenager who wanted to get into my pants!"

Logan sighed, thinking of the 18-year-old Logan, drunk on champagne and desperately in love. He zipped up his suitcases and moved them to the floor, then sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

Veronica sat, carefully not touching him, her face still a mask of bewildered pain and anger.

"It took me a little while to remember what I'd said to you, Veronica," he said. "But I meant every word, and you know damned well it had nothing to do with sex. I was just a stupid fucking teenager, and I couldn't figure out how to express to this girl how crazy in love with her I was. And _epic_ sounded...grand, romantic, life-altering." He sighed.

He looked at Veronica then, tension radiating off her as she sat quietly listening, and understood with everything in him that a decade later, he loved her more than ever. But there was no need to tell her that, because she already knew.

"But you know what, Veronica?" he said softly. "I don't think I want epic. Not anymore. I don't want ruined lives and the rest of that bullshit. I'd rather have... _everyday_. I want _ordinary_. I want Adventures in Cooking with Logan and Veronica. Remember that? I want fixing our house, and planting flowers in our garden. I want long walks together."

He touched her shoulder, and she turned to look at him. "And I wouldn't care whether they were walks on the beach in Neptune or along the streets of San Francisco. It would never matter to me as long as we were together."

Veronica was silent as Logan bent over and kissed her forehead. He rose then, pulled up the handles of his cases and wheeled them out to the hallway. He returned to the room, leaving a key card on the bedside table next to Veronica.

"Why don't you just stay the night here?" he said quietly. "It's after two - too late for you to travel across town."

Logan paused and when she didn't respond he said gently, "Promise me you won't try to leave the hotel before morning, Veronica."

She looked up at him and nodded, and when he saw the unshed tears in her eyes, he'd never felt like more of a bastard. But he knew he couldn't stay. Because if he did, there was no way they wouldn't be on that bed and he wouldn't be buried inside her within minutes. And as much as he wanted...craved...the feel of her, he couldn't do that to himself. Not again.

"Good," he said, seeing the nod, and turned to leave.

Logan was halfway to the corridor when he turned back as far as the bedroom door.

"I was wrong, you know," he said, and Veronica looked up quickly, hearing his voice. "All those years ago. I was trying so hard to find the perfect word to make you understand that I knew we were meant to be. That nothing would ever change the way we felt about each other."

He smiled ruefully. "I guess in my head I thought it had to be something...dramatic. Grandiose, even. But I was wrong. It was actually a perfectly ordinary, everyday word that I wanted, Veronica, because what I was really trying to say was that we were...inevitable."

Veronica caught her breath, remembering her wedding ring and the inscription inside.

"That hasn't changed," he said. "And it never will."

This time, when Logan left he didn't come back.

xxxxxxxx

For some time, Veronica sat unmoving, stunned by Logan's abrupt departure. Her mind felt sluggish, and she found it hard to think what to do next. She'd promised him she wouldn't leave the hotel, but she knew with a certainty that she couldn't stay in that room, on that bed. The same bed where she'd had every expectation that at that very moment she'd be making passionate love to him. The bed where she could still smell Logan's scent and see the indentation from his body where he'd sat next to her.

In fact, if she had to spend one more minute in that suite, Veronica believed she'd turn into a quivering, sobbing mess.

Despite the hour and the outrageous cost, she considered trying to get a room for the night, when it suddenly occurred to her that there was a good chance that Mac and Dick would probably not be needing both their rooms. It was surely proof of the level of her distress that she had no reaction at all to the idea of a Mac/Dick coupling, other than its potential convenience in leaving a room free for her to sleep in.

Veronica quickly pressed Mac's number, hoping that she wasn't interrupting anything...intimate. She was surprised when Mac answered immediately, almost breathlessly.

"Mac," she said, hopeful that her distress couldn't be heard in her voice. But Mac knew her too well, and her concern was immediate.

"Veronica," she said. "What's wrong? Has something else happened? Is there still some danger?"

"No, nothing like that," Veronica said. She cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the unshed tears lodged there. "Um, I was wondering if maybe I could use your room tonight. Or Dick's," she added hastily, "depending on where you are."

She heard Mac's sigh over the line. "I'm alone, Veronica," she said. "Why don't you come tell me what's happened. Room 521."

"Thanks, Mac, I'll be right down," she said, and noted somewhere in the recesses of her mind that Mac might also have something she wanted to share.

When Mac opened her door, she needed only a glimpse of Veronica's face to understand that the situation between Veronica and Logan had reached another enormous bump in the road. They didn't do hugs, Mac and Veronica, but on this night, Mac made an exception.

She pulled Veronica into her arms as soon as the door shut behind her, and the tears began before her arms had fully reached around Veronica's shoulders. In truth, Mac wasn't so sure that Veronica could have stood up if she hadn't been holding on to her.

Mac walked her over to the bed and pulled her down before Veronica's legs gave out.

"Talk to me," Mac said, as soon as Veronica's tears began to subside.

"He's gone," Veronica said, "Logan's gone," as a fresh wave of tears overtook her.

"But...but why?" Mac asked, bewildered. "I didn't expect to see you two leave that room for days. Or at least until you had to go back to work."

Veronica took a few shuddering breaths. "I...he just left," she said.

Mac pulled back to look at her face. "But there must have been a reason, Veronica. Logan wouldn't just walk out. I think you should tell me what happened."

Veronica's shoulders slumped as she looked up at Mac. "He wants to stay married," she said finally.

"Well, of course he does," Mac said. "What did you expect? That after all this, he'd just walk away and you could exchange Christmas cards and the occasional Skype call? Veronica, Logan is totally in love with you, just like he has been for years and he wants to be with you. You do understand that, right?"

Veronica looked at Mac and finally gave a little nod. "I know," she said softly.

"And I hope you're not going to try to tell me that you don't love him, too. Because honestly, Veronica, I'm just not in the mood for any bullshit."

Mac didn't mean to be harsh, but she'd watched this push-pull between them drag on forever, and she was losing patience with their inability to deal with each other.

Veronica quirked a small smile and shook her head. "No," she said, "I'm not that much in denial, Mac. I want to be with him. I...miss him already. But...I thought..."

Veronica broke off, trying to find a way to explain.

"What did you think, Veronica?" Mac prompted gently, wondering what new walls her closest friend had tried to erect between herself and the man Mac knew she loved.

"I guess I thought we could still be together in some way, but it would be better...safer...if we...left some room between us."

"Safer?" Mac asked, puzzled.

"So maybe nothing would...happen. Nothing...bad." Veronica's eyes begged for understanding.

Mac drew Veronica back into a hug. "Oh, kiddo," she said. "Bad things happen all the time. That's how life is. But good things happen, too."

She pulled back and looked Veronica in the eye. "Look at your relationship with Matthew. You were with him because you thought he was 'safe', right? And see how that turned out? Isn't it better to be with the person you love when life hits you with a bunch of crap?" she asked.

Veronica sighed. "I know you're right, Mac. That it's not Logan and me being together that makes the bad things happen. It just _seemed_ that way for such a long time, so I thought there must be a reason. That it wasn't meant to be. And then the last time we tried..."

Veronica's voice trailed off and her mind veered away, as it always did, from dwelling on those most difficult days of her life.

Mac sighed. "I know you're afraid, Veronica. But you're the only one who can decide if being with Logan is worth trying to conquer that fear."

She looked Veronica in the eye. "In so many ways, you're the strongest woman I know. You've overcome so much. I hope you can figure out how to get past this, too."

When Veronica just sighed instead of answering, Mac knew the discussion was over, at least for the moment. She nodded and said, "Let me find something for you to sleep in."

Some rummaging through her small bag produced an old t-shirt, and Mac unzipped Veronica's gown so she could change. It was when she had emerged from the bathroom, gown in hand, that Veronica finally remembered.

"So why aren't you with Dick right now?" she asked Mac.

Mac quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're not going to try to tell me that you're not relieved about that. I know damn well that Dick Casablancas isn't your favorite person."

Veronica looked at her and shrugged. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked. "Since when do you need my permission to sleep with someone?"

"Yeah, well you can relax," Mac said, "because that's not going to happen."

Mac turned out the light and they got into bed, although both knew that sleep might prove elusive.

"Why not?" Veronica asked with a yawn. "You both seemed pretty into each other earlier in the evening. And don't tell me it was all a pretense, because I can tell the difference."

"Well, apparently I'm too valuable as a friend to become a lover."

That got Veronica's attention. "Dick said that?" she asked Mac.

Veronica could just about make out Mac's nod in the dark room.

"Dick's been...surprising lately," Veronica said. "Not to mention I'm pretty sure I probably owe him my life," she added with another yawn.

Perhaps it was the emotional overload, Mac thought, when she turned to Veronica a moment later and saw that she'd fallen asleep. Mac settled in, determined that she, too, would get some sleep, but instead she tossed and turned, her mind racing from one topic to another. Veronica and Logan and the years they'd spent trying to get it right. Dick's decision earlier, which had been both disappointing and hurtful. And then there was that thing that Veronica had said about Dick just before she'd drifted off.

 _Dick's been surprising._ Mac huffed to herself, thinking what an understatement that was. Everything that had happened between herself and Dick Casablancas lately had been a surprise. How much she'd enjoyed that dinner in Neptune, the flowers he'd brought her yesterday, her pleasure in his company throughout the day, and her undeniably strong attraction to him.

And yet...he'd turned down sex with her because...she sat up in bed as it suddenly hit her what an idiot she'd been! She'd been so focused on feeling rejected that she'd missed something very, very important, and Mac decided right then and there that she wasn't waiting around, hoping for a chance to make things right. A chance that might never come. She wasn't going to let this thing drag on and on, with misunderstandings all around. She looked over at her best friend and sighed. She'd certainly seen first hand what kind of misery could result from not grabbing at happiness with both hands when it seemed to be right in front of you.

Mac got up and checked the back of the closet. Yep! She knew she'd seen one of those fluffy robes that fancy hotels like this provided to their guests. She'd packed very lightly for only an overnight stay, and she didn't want to be running around the halls of the St. Regis in just her sleep shorts and tank top.

Mac donned the robe, left Veronica a note, grabbed her key card and phone, and slipped out of the room as noiselessly as possible. She followed the corridor to the other end of the hotel and stopped when she reached room 504.

 _Now, how hard to knock?_ It was the middle of the night, and she didn't want to wake everyone on the floor, but she had a feeling that Dick might be a heavy sleeper. Mac shrugged.

Her first knocks were clearly not strong enough, so she escalated, calling out "Dick! Dick!" as loudly as she dared, as well. Just as she thought she might have to risk pounding on the door, she heard shuffling footsteps inside the room, and the door was finally opened by a sleepy-looking, disheveled, but altogether sexy Dick Casablancas, clad only in his boxer shorts.

"Mac!" he said, clearly shocked to see her there.

Mac wasted no time. Pushing him back and poking her index finger into his chest for emphasis, she said, "You like me!" just as the door closed behind her.

Dick was taken aback, both literally and figuratively, as he stumbled into the room. But he nodded in agreement.

"Of course I like you," he said. "Isn't that what I told you before?"

Mac didn't answer. "You like to spend time with me," she added, more specifically. "You want to come to dinner with Logan the next time I come to Neptune."

Dick agreed once again. "To tell you the truth," he said, "I like it even better when Logan _doesn't_ come because then I can spend the whole night talking to you."

Mac nodded, unsurprised. By now, she was on a roll. "And you want to have sex with me," she said. "You can't wait to make me come a dozen different ways. You want me to touch you and stroke you until you're so hard you can't control yourself!"

"Jesus, Mac!" Dick said. "Are you trying to drive me fucking crazy?"

"Yes!" she declared. "Yes, I am! Because you're such a fucking idiot!"

Mac paused to gather herself.

"Do you know what it's called when two people like each other like that, Dick? When they want to spend as much time together as possible? When they can barely keep their hands off each other? It's called dating. It's called being in a relationship."

By now, Dick was looking at her like she was either nuts, or he was the luckiest guy on the planet.

"So tell me, Dick," she said. "Do you want to date me, have a relationship with me?" Mac took a deep breath. "Do you want to _be_ with me, Dick?"

"But...but you'd never want to be with someone like me, Mac," Dick said, afraid to hope that she might really mean it.

"Yes, yes I would," she said. "I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know if it can work out, all I know is..."

But Dick never found out what she knew, nor, at that point, did he care. He swooped in, kissing her madly and carrying her across the room. They both fell heavily onto the bed, pulling and tugging at each others' clothing until their naked bodies were pressed up against one another.

Dick could hardly believe that she'd come to him like this. "Are you sure about this, Mac?" he whispered, caressing her face, and gazing at her in awe.

"I'm as sure as I can be that at this moment, this is exactly where I want to be. That's good enough for me."

With Mac in his arms, and his heart beating like a drum, at that moment it was definitely good enough for Dick, too.

xxxxxxxx

Via the Pacific Coast Highway, it was a three-hour drive from San Francisco to Carmel, so Matthew Garcia took Highway 101 instead, which cut the drive time by nearly a third. In truth, he didn't enjoy the drive under any circumstances, since every route took him across the Santa Cruz mountains and Matthew did not enjoy heights. He wondered sometimes at the absurdity of his living in a penthouse condo near the top of Nob Hill.

The trip was made even more unpleasant because it was barely dawn and Matthew had had very little sleep. But when the call had come, as he'd known it would, he'd had very little choice but to comply.

As he drove, Matthew forced himself to recall the previous evening in all of its catastrophic splendor. He shook his head, marveling at his extraordinarily intense reaction to the woman - Chandra - and wondered if she'd somehow bewitched him. He'd looked for her afterwards, searched for her really, but he supposed it wasn't surprising that she'd retreated from the embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position. She'd found them what she'd thought was a private retreat, and could hardly have known that one wall of that sanctuary would turn out to be movable. He didn't expect she'd be seeking him out any time soon.

And then there was Veronica. Matthew felt some guilt where she was concerned, even though he knew she wasn't emotionally attached to him. He wondered sometimes if she ever had been, if indeed either of them had ever felt anything for the other beyond some mild affection. Still, no one else knew that she'd already broken their engagement, so it had to be humiliating for her. He doubted she'd ever forgive him, or indeed, ever speak to him again. Matthew sighed. He'd been hoping to be able to keep Veronica as a friend. God knew, he had few enough of them.

He tried to keep his mind on the women, tried to convince himself that their embarrassment and his humiliation was the most negative outcome of the previous night's fiasco, but Matthew knew better. Even through the haze of his shock and his utter mortification, Matthew had heard Jim Farnsworth's remark, and he knew his political career was shot to hell.

He hadn't yet seen the papers, but he knew that nowadays, it didn't take long for any type of scandal to spread like wildfire on social media. What did the kids call it? Oh, yes. Going viral. Sounded like a disease. Very apt, he thought, in his case. He presumed he'd probably already gone spectacularly viral.

He'd successfully avoided the city papers by ducking out the back door of the ballroom, taking a cab to his apartment building, and entering through the garage. Matthew always kept a packed case in his trunk, for emergencies, and this certainty qualified. He'd barely been sober, but he'd managed to drive out toward the airport, where he knew could get a hotel room easily and that the time of his arrival would not be remarked upon. Then he tried to get some sleep and waited for the call. It had come at 5 a.m.

And that's why he was on the road to Carmel at 6 a.m. First tee at Pebble Beach, _Padrino_ had said. He had an 8 a.m. tee time and he didn't want to delay the start of his game. Just before he turned onto Seventeen Mile Drive, Matthew stopped to pick up a quick coffee to go, sipping it as he drove the last few miles, trying to calm his jangling nerves.

Matthew knew, had always known really, what kind of man Padrino was and what sort of men he represented, so he'd always been wary. But this was the first time he'd felt actual fear.

By the time he'd parked and hurried out to the first tee, Matthew was a bundle of nerves, pondering what might be in store for him. When he saw _Padrino,_ saw the expression on his face, a frisson of fear shot up his spine, although he tried hard to maintain a calm facade.

"Good morning, _Padrino_ ," he said, years of ingrained courtesy coming to the fore.

The older man barely glanced at him, instead cocking his head at his golfing companions, who retreated immediately, giving them some privacy.

"The weather is good, Mateo. It's certainly a fine day for golfing. But I wonder that you can really consider this to be a good morning for you." He finally looked at Matthew, and Matthew felt his heartbeat speed up. But he said nothing.

"You have nothing to say for yourself, then?" _Padrino_ asked. "No explanation for your foolish behavior?"

"No, _Padrino_ ," Matthew said. "I have no explanation. It's inexplicable even to me. I have...no excuses."

 _Padrino_ took a practice swing as he seemed to consider what to say next.

"You do not try to excuse yourself, but understand that this is more than just a disappointment, Mateo. These are powerful men that you are dealing with, and they had certain...expectations of you."

Matthew nodded, unsure what was coming next.

"You may consider yourself fortunate that they have determined there is another way to recoup all the time and money that has been invested in your education," _Padrino_ continued. "There are occasionally gentlemen whose activities put them in conflict with, shall we say, certain legal niceties. Ways must be found around these intrusive laws. You, Mateo, will take on this task."

Matthew said nothing as he waited for _Padrino_ to continue.

"You may expect to be contacted about your new...clients within a few days. And Mateo," he said, looking at Matthew pointedly, "you understand that there will be no further...opportunities for you to make yourself useful. We have known each other for many years, but if the new clients are not...satisfied with your service, it will be out of my hands. Do I make myself clear?"

Matthew nodded his understanding of the situation. It was most...unpleasant, and he was not used to being dressed down, but really, he had little choice in the matter.

When _Padrino_ nodded to his companions, Matthew recognized that the interview was over, and he stumbled tiredly back to the parking lot. He took inventory as he slid behind the wheel and turned on the ignition. He still had all his limbs, so that was a plus. But, fuck! He'd schemed and connived to pull off the coup that had resulted in his takeover of the law firm, and now he was to have no control over the client list.

And what about his associates? Some of them might object to his new clientele and leave the firm. Like Maggie Rosetti, he remembered suddenly. Christ! Her husband was a bureau chief in the DA's office!

As he turned back onto Seventeen Mile Drive, Matthew Garcia considered his penance and all at once realized that he was in Purgatory. And he saw no chance of redemption any time soon.

xxxxxxxx

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, and the group that had gathered the evening before to participate in the glitter and glamour of one of society's ritual celebrations were now returning to their disparate lives.

Matthew Garcia made it home from Carmel by mid-morning, again using the gated garage entrance, to find that his daughter had packed up and left. He found her note saying that she'd be returning to London. Matthew could hardly blame her, but there was certainly some irony in his feeling of disappointment that she'd gone. He felt bereft; a week ago, he would have felt nothing but relief.

xxx

The Navarros spent the morning in bed, enjoying their last few hours of freedom from baby care. Of course, numerous calls were made to _abuela_ to ensure all was going well, and even then, they would not be absolutely comfortable until they'd reclaimed baby Lucinda from her great-grandmother. Still, it had been an adventure, they'd helped an old friend and made some new friends, and Marisol had hopes of a part-time career in detective work. She already had a call in to Keith Mars, and she had every confidence that she could bring Eli around.

xxx

Wallace, Emily, Leo and Lisa had decided to do some sightseeing before their 5 o'clock shuttle. They'd also tried to contact Logan to thank him for the rooms and the flights, even going so far as to trudge up to the penthouse suite when he didn't answer his cell.

When no one came to the door, they all smiled knowingly at one another, and the women practically swooned with delight that at least there'd been a happy ending. They'd become fast friends by then, and while they weren't, either of them, of an adventurous nature, they both agreed that this was the most exciting thing they'd ever done. And the most romantic story they'd ever heard.

Wallace was just happy that his good friends had finally managed to make it work.

xxx

Evie Garcia spent the morning trying to decide whether or not she should call her father. She'd left him a note, but it still seemed...coldhearted not to at least call. Evie finally determined that it would be better to put a little distance between them. She'd call when she reached London, if only to make sure that he was all right.

Having made her decision, she spent the rest of the day cleverly fielding tactless questions from her friends and studiously trying to avoid social media. By mid-afternoon, she was at the airport, and by 6 p.m., she was in the air. Evie felt calmer than she had in days, and she knew returning to London was the right decision.

xxx

Keith Mars wasn't really surprised when his daughter hadn't returned to her apartment by noon on Sunday. He was just happy that she and Logan were finally able to enjoy a worry-free reconciliation. He decided not to disturb them, instead leaving her a note telling her that he'd decided to return with Alicia on the 3 p.m. shuttle. He was pretty sure that Veronica would understand.

Keith picked up Alicia in a taxi shortly after noon, and they made their way to the airport. Neither of them could seem to stop smiling all the way back to Neptune, where later that day they enjoyed their first dinner date in more than ten years.

xxx

Dick and Mac slept in, exhausted by the previous day's - and night's - activities. They were both famished, so they ordered a room service breakfast, and Dick would have opted to spend the day right in that room if Mac hadn't reminded him that this was now a relationship, and perhaps they should consider adding other activities to their schedule. Dick made a token protest, but in truth, he was so overjoyed at the new development in his life that anything Mac suggested was okay with him.

Later in the day, after they'd returned to Mac's apartment to take up where they'd left off earlier at the hotel, Dick decided to take a couple of days off from work. He called a few of his part-timers to cover the surf shop and, having taken care of business, returned to being ecstatically happy.

xxx

After a restless night, Veronica woke to an empty bed and a text from Mac telling Veronica where she'd gone. Mac told her to feel free to use any of the clothes in her suitcase, and Veronica found some shorts and flip flops to add to the t-shirt she'd slept in. They would do for making the cross-town trip back to her apartment.

Veronica gathered up her gown, and made her way to the lobby. She informed the desk that Mr. Echolls had checked out of the penthouse suite, and then made use of the taxi stand in front of the hotel to find transportation home.

Veronica smiled wryly when she saw her father's note, and decided she was happy that he and Alicia had found each other again. Then she stepped into the shower, where she promptly burst into the tears that she'd been holding back ever since she'd awoken.

She'd managed a few hours of sleep, but it hadn't helped her state of mind. If anything, she was more miserable than she'd been the night before, when she'd had the comfort of Mac's sympathy and the prospect of slipping into the sweet oblivion of sleep. But now...she wondered what the hell she'd do _now_ , when she could no longer pretend, even to herself, that she wasn't still in love with Logan Echolls.

A war was being waged within Veronica between her desire to acknowledge that deep love, and spend her life with the one person who truly made her happy, and her equally deep-seated fear that doing so would leave her vulnerable to unthinkable pain again. An impossible dilemma indeed.

 

xxx

By the time Logan had gotten to the airport, he'd found that there were no flights to San Diego until 5 a.m. It was after seven by the time he found himself unlocking the door to the beach house. He left his bags, unopened, in the doorway, and made his way through the house to the back patio, where he threw himself down on a lounge chair. Logan was asleep within seconds.

When he awoke with a start, it was nearly noon. He'd been dreaming, and in his dreams he was not alone in his house. _Veronica!_ he thought. Logan wondered if, after the past week, there would ever come a time when her name didn't immediately spring to mind every single time he woke up.

 _What the hell have I done?_ he wondered miserably. He wavered between the certainty that he'd unnecessarily sabotaged his own happiness, and the equal certainty that he would never be able to survive in the limbo-like relationship that Veronica seemed to be proposing. He was caught in an insoluble impasse between his heart's desire and his own peace of mind. An impossible dilemma indeed.


	21. Part II - Chapter 16

Part II - Chapter 16

In the end, it was a nine days' wonder. The mainstream press, which liked to think of itself as above that sort of thing, never published any of the scandalous photos, but they had no such compunction about the story itself. "Candidate Garcia Discovered In Flagrante at Charity Ball" screamed the headlines.

The tabloids, on the other hand, had a field day. Pictures of Matthew Garcia looking pie-eyed and rumpled appeared in all the rags, and the headlines were even less appealing. "Candidate Given a Hand," one wag wrote. And as for the Internet, well, some of the most salacious images were uploaded to Instagram, after which they had, indeed, gone viral.

No one seemed to know - or care - about the "mystery woman" caught in a compromising position with the prominent attorney. She was never identified, and evidently Mr. Garcia was not inclined to enlighten the public.

In a statement issued by his party, Garcia _did_ make an attempt to withdraw from the race, but it was too late. The ballots for the state primary had already been printed. No matter. Matthew Garcia was soundly trounced, and his short, if memorable, career in politics was over.

Some of the more disreputable tabloids - if there could be said to be degrees of disrepute in such enterprises - printed pictures of Marin County DDA Veronica Mars apparently in the act of returning an engagement ring to the former candidate. Veronica was philosophical about her short-lived notoriety. She'd been there before, and at least there were no dead bodies this time. Particularly her own.

Besides, she found the negative publicity...helpful...when she returned to work the following Monday. Because try as she might, _this time_ Veronica had found it impossible to shove her personal heartache into a box and get on with her life. She couldn't seem to hide her unhappiness, so she was quite willing to have her colleagues misled about its cause.

As for everyone else, well, Veronica knew she'd been dragging her feet about calling her father. As far as Keith knew, he'd left her in the middle of a blissful reunion with Logan. She needed to call and advise him otherwise, but try as she might she just couldn't seem to find the strength to face that conversation.

When Keith called in the middle of her work day a couple of weeks after the ball, Veronica knew she'd left it too long. She was tempted to let the call go straight to voice mail, but in the end she answered because she couldn't put him off forever.

"Hi, Dad," she said, trying hard to infuse her voice with just the right amount of cheerfulness.

But Keith knew her too well, and she immediately heard the wariness in his tone.

"Hi, honey," he said. "I thought I might have heard from you before this. I've been getting a little worried. Is everything all right?"

Veronica thought it was probably a good thing that he'd called her at work, where she was forced to maintain at least some control of her emotions, but even so, when she heard the love and concern in her father's voice, her throat closed and her eyes filled with tears.

"Dad..." was all she managed to get out before a small sob escaped.

There was a pause before Keith continued.

"I take it things didn't go well with Logan," he finally said quietly. "Veronica?"

Veronica struggled to find her voice, to at least say _something_.

"I can't...I can't talk about this right now, Dad," she finally choked out. "I'll have to call you back."

Keith sighed quietly.

"Okay," he said, then paused briefly before continuing. "You know I'm always on your side, honey, no matter what, right?"

"I know, Dad. Thanks," Veronica whispered.

"So then...you won't mind if I say something." Keith paused, wondering if he should keep his mouth shut, but finally deciding to invoke the parental right to be a busybody at least once a decade.

"Yeah, go ahead," she said warily, when he failed to continue immediately.

"Veronica...you and Logan...well, I think you know that when you were kids he was never my choice for you." Keith chuckled softly. "Let's face it, for a lot of years Logan presented only one side of himself to the world, and it wasn't the picture of a man that any father would want for his daughter. You saw him differently, saw other facets of his...character that he didn't show the rest of us. You saw the potential for what kind of man he could become."

Keith heard a soft "Yeah" from the other end of the line and cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But you know, Veronica," Keith continued, "even when I thought Logan Echolls was the biggest jackass in Neptune, I always knew he was in love with you."

Veronica said nothing as she waited for her father to continue.

"Well, I just want you to know that I don't feel that way anymore," he said finally.

"You...you don't?" He could hear the dismay in her voice.

"Oh, he's still in love with you, Veronica. I don't think that will ever change. No, I was talking about that potential that you saw in him. I think maybe he's reached it. He's pretty...impressive these days."

"Oh," she said, surprised.

 

"So, here's the thing, honey," Keith went on. "I don't know what happened after I left," although he had a pretty good idea, "but I just wanted to ask, are you absolutely certain that you're doing the right thing?"

Keith wondered why he'd even bothered to ask. Veronica was always so sure of herself that he was resigned to hearing a taut "Yes" in a tone that brooked no compromise. But instead, her answer was so slow in coming that for just a moment he thought the call must have been dropped.

"Veronica?" he prompted.

"No," she said finally, briefly, in a voice that was so soft, and so small, that he barely heard it. So unlike the robust tones that he'd learned to expect from his confident daughter.

"Well," Keith said reasonably, amazed that Veronica would ever admit to not completely knowing her own mind, "don't you think maybe you ought to find out?"

xxxxxxxx

The newspaper accounts of Matthew Garcia's spectacular fall from grace were so attention-grabbing that they were naturally picked up by papers across the state. And the man had, after all, been seeking election to a statewide office.

In Neptune, the story was read with some amusement by Attorney Cliff McCormack, who was pretty certain that the recent request to be put in touch with his old friend Loretta Cancun was somehow connected to the "mystery woman" that no one seemed able to find after it all went down. Cliff wasn't sure what Matthew Garcia had done to put himself in Veronica's crosshairs, but it was pretty clear that it must have been something egregious to have provoked such a response. Cliff chuckled, and made a mental note never to get on Veronica's shit list.

The whole thing did make him wonder if there'd been a reconciliation between Logan and Veronica. If so, was there still a need for the divorce agreement that Cliff had been busily drafting? Cliff put it aside, half-expecting that he'd soon get a call from Logan telling him to tear it up because there wasn't going to be a divorce after all. Or, he supposed, to ask him to hurry it along. One or the other, surely.

When, after three weeks, Logan still hadn't called, Cliff was in a quandary. After so thoroughly screwing up six years ago, he wanted nothing to go wrong this time. At least a half-dozen times, he picked up the phone to call Logan, but somehow a phone call just didn't feel right.

"Screw it," he finally said to himself one afternoon, on a day when he had no appointments, no court appearances scheduled, and nothing to do that couldn't be put off for a while.

xxxxxxxx

When Logan opened his door a little later that afternoon, he was surprised to find Cliff McCormack standing on his doorstep.

"Did I have an appointment I forgot about?" Logan asked, his forehead wrinkling and his hand reaching up unconsciously to scratch the back of his neck.

"If you did, kid, it wasn't with me," Cliff said breezily. "I just got a hankering for an ocean view."

"Well, come on in then," Logan said with a smirk, opening the door wide so that Cliff could step inside. "This whole damn town is one giant ocean view, but you're welcome to enjoy the superior vantage point at Casa Echolls."

Logan led Cliff through the house, stopping briefly in the kitchen to extract two beers from the refrigerator.

"Can I offer you some refreshment with your view?" Logan asked, quirking a brow at Cliff.

"Why not?" Cliff said, accepting the bottle and following his host out to the back patio.

They settled into a couple of lounge chairs, while Logan waited for Cliff to explain the real purpose of his visit. But Cliff was apparently finding it difficult to get to the point.

"So are we really gonna just sit here and gaze at the ocean?" Logan said after a while, his beer half gone and his impatience growing.

Cliff sighed, lowering his bottle onto the small wooden table next to his chair.

"I suppose I could have just called, kid. Maybe I should have. But I wasn't sure..."

He paused, uncharacteristically hesitant, before continuing.

"I've been reading about Attorney Garcia's...uh...unfortunate indiscretion up in San Francisco. You know, that name sounded strangely familiar."

That brought a sly grin from Logan.

"I know how you lawyers like to stick together," Logan said acerbically, "but trust me, it couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy."

"I do trust you, Logan," Cliff said sincerely. "Especially when it comes to Veronica's welfare. If you say the guy had it coming, then I believe you. And if you and Veronica had a hand in the proceedings, I really don't want to know about it."

Logan smirked again and raised his bottle toward Cliff in salute.

"But I'm not here about Garcia," Cliff continued.

"I didn't think you were," Logan said, turning to face him directly. "So why did you come, Cliff? What's on your mind?"

Cliff shrugged and decided to cut to the chase. "It's that little problem that was supposed to be taken care of six years ago, but wasn't. The one you asked me to work on before you left. I just wondered -- before I waste a lot of time dotting the "i's" and crossing the "t's" -- now that Garcia is...out of the picture, are you even going to need that divorce agreement ?"

Logan frowned, sighed, rolled himself off the lounger and grabbed the empty bottles.

"I'm going to have another," he said, moving towards the house. "You?" he called back over his shoulder.

"Sure," Cliff answered. _Might as well,_ he thought. _Not going to get anything else done today anyway._

Logan returned with the beers, handed one to Cliff, flopped back onto the lounger, and said abruptly, "There's not going to be a divorce if I have anything to say about it." Cliff heard the determination in his voice, and saw the look of resolve on his face.

"Do you want to expand on that a little, kid?" Cliff asked, wondering in passing why he was thrusting himself into the role of Father Confessor. On the other hand, he'd been there since the beginning of this marriage, so why the hell not?

Logan studied his beer bottle, as if seeking wisdom, or solace, or maybe advice. Cliff wasn't sure which.

Logan finally shrugged and said simply. "I don't want a divorce because I'm still in love with Veronica."

Cliff nodded. "And what about the young lady?" he asked. "Is she likewise enamored?"

"She is," Logan said, smiling at Cliff's unique conversational style.

"Then where's the problem?" Cliff asked. "I'll just shred the draft and close the file. I'd lament the loss of my fee," he added, "if it weren't for the fact that I'm not getting one. Got to make up for my incompetence the last time around."

Logan continued to fuss with his bottle, and when he finally looked up, Cliff was taken aback by the look of despair on his face. This was a kid who'd faced a murder accusation with bravado, who'd stood up to an abusive father, who'd withstood the pain of losing a parent as well as a child. But he'd only seen that particular look once before, the first time they'd talked about this divorce agreement.

"If only it were that simple." Logan said with a sigh. "But this is Veronica, Cliff. Stubborn. I know goddamn well that she's got to be just as miserable as I am, but she insisted she doesn't want to give the marriage another try."

Logan twisted out of his chair suddenly and walked across the pavers to the very edge of the patio. He stood there for a time, gazing out at the ocean, saying nothing at all. Then he turned and looked back at the house, smiling at it, Cliff thought, almost...fondly. Almost as if it were a living thing.

When Logan spoke again, his voice was so soft that he seemed to be talking to himself.

"It's like she only remembers the...terrible thing that happened to us," he said. "Like she's completely forgotten how happy we were, right here. Every room in this house has great memories, and every time I look around, I'm reminded of how good we were together and what it could be like again, if she'd just give it a chance."

Cliff cleared his throat, and Logan turned toward him with a start, as though he'd only just remembered that the other man was there.

Logan shook his head at Cliff and shrugged. "I keep thinking," he told him, "If I could only get Veronica to come here, get her to look around like I do every day and remember how great it was, how much we felt for each other." Logan sighed. "But she hasn't been in Neptune in six years, and she once told me that she'd never set foot in this house again, so I don't see that happening."

Cliff thought that he should probably have some words of wisdom to impart at this point, but he seemed to be fresh out. He was surprised at how saddened he was by it all, but then he had become rather...fond of Logan over the years. He admired the way the kid picked up the pieces of his life and moved on. Over and over again.

Cliff sighed quietly and rose from the lounger. "So," he said, as if the matter were settled, "we are officially in limbo, then. Awaiting further developments."

Logan laughed harshly. "Afraid that's about it, Cliff. You'll be the first to know if anything changes," he added, settling back into his chair and taking another swig of his beer.

"I'll see myself out, kid," Cliff said unnecessarily, since Logan had made no move to rise and show him to the door.

As Cliff closed the door behind him, he wondered idly if there were any way to break this impasse between Logan and Veronica. By the time he got into his car, a glimmer of a plan was taking shape in his head. And by the time he returned to his office, he'd worked out the details.

 _I must be crazy,_ he thought. _This is in no way any of my business._ But when he remembered all the time and trouble he'd save himself if it worked out, he reconsidered.

Cliff was relieved that he'd found a modicum of self-interest in his plan, because the only alternative was that he'd suddenly turned into a sentimental old fool.

xxxxxxxx

More than three weeks had passed since the charity ball, and every day Veronica expected to feel better. At the beginning of each of those weeks, she had determined anew to shove aside her feelings of sadness and get on with her life, only to have to admit failure by the end of the week.

Veronica recalled her first terrible weeks in San Francisco, when she'd slept on the couch in Mac's tiny apartment, and spent her days walking, forcing her mind to empty of everything except what was right in front of her. She'd learned the tactic well, and followed it relentlessly for years. She'd focused on her feet as they trod the city sidewalks. Then on her routine job, on law school, the DA's office. Matthew.

Why wasn't it working now? Why couldn't she clear her mind of everything except those things that she wanted to think about, and those people that she wanted to deal with? Somehow during those nine days leading up to the ball, she had lost the ability to shut the world out. Veronica had let her guard down, and she couldn't seem to force it back up. Instead, all she could think about was how much she missed Logan Echolls.

Veronica felt...stuck. Stuck in her pain and sadness and unable to find a way out. It didn't help that she wasn't sleeping well. She made it through each day on sheer willpower, but at night the dreams came, just at the edge of her consciousness, and she woke feeling dazed and exhausted.

Len Rosetti finally noticed. Her boss tried to put it down to her public humiliation and break-up with Garcia, just like everyone else, but somehow it didn't ring true. The feisty Veronica Mars he knew would have told Matthew Garcia to _fuck off_ , not pined away like some nineteenth century heroine.

Len began to think she might actually be physically ill, but when he tried to delicately broach the subject, she'd looked genuinely perplexed. He then made an oblique reference to her weeks of accrued vacation time, but Veronica had looked so panicked by that suggestion that he began to believe it was only the day to day routine of the office that was holding her together at all.

After Len spoke to her, Veronica redoubled her efforts to focus on her work.

Mac had called, several times in fact, but Veronica insisted she was "fine." When calls from Wallace began to appear on her Caller ID, she knew that Mac had probably told him that things had not gone as he might have expected. But Veronica didn't want to speak to Wallace, either, so she'd taken to sending every call to voice mail.

Which is why she nearly missed the call from Cliff McCormack.

She was at work when it came, trying to focus on sifting through some old case files, and when her cell buzzed, she glanced at it dispiritedly, expecting that it would be another call from Wallace or Mac. It took several seconds before the name on the Caller ID penetrated her consciousness, and then she answered quickly.

"Hello," she said almost breathlessly, afraid that Cliff might have hung up. She couldn't imagine why he'd be calling, but there was always the possibility that it was some problem with Keith.

"Veronica." Cliff's voice floated across the line in the same rich baritone that she remembered.

"Hi, Cliff," she said. "It's been...a long time. How are you?" Mundane, pointless conversation, she knew, but it gave her a few moments to try to clear her head.

"Things never seem to change too much around here, Veronica," he said drily.

"No, I suppose not," Veronica agreed. "Is something wrong with my dad?" she asked. "Is that why you're calling?"

"As far as I know, Keith is just fine, although it's been a couple of weeks since I've seen him."

"Okay, good," she said, perplexed. "Then...why are you calling?"

"It's about your divorce," Cliff said offhandedly, as though it were nothing. As though the subject under discussion was the weather forecast, or maybe who won last night's Padres game.

Veronica was unaccountably annoyed.

"My divorce?" She was surprised. Veronica had been so sure she'd have to force the issue of the divorce with Logan, and now here was Cliff calling to discuss it.

"Yes," Cliff continued. "I'm having a little trouble working out the settlement part of the agreement. I'm not sure how you'd like to receive the funds. Lump sum, annuity..."

"What funds?" Veronica broke in heatedly. "There are no funds to be settled. We agreed before we even married that I was to get nothing in...in the event of a divorce."

Veronica remembered that conversation perfectly, Logan making outsized gestures in the air, saying they could put it in writing. But then, somehow, they hadn't. She recalled that, too.

"We never got around to putting it in writing," she told Cliff, "but that was our...our verbal agreement."

"That's all well and good, Veronica," he said. "But you're a lawyer, and you know that in these cases anything that's not in writing..."

Cliff's voice trailed off and she heard him sigh. "And what about the properties?" he asked then. "Are you going to tell me that you had a prior arrangement about those, also?"

"Properties? What properties?" Veronica's head was beginning to spin.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and then Cliff spoke again.

"Apparently this divorce agreement isn't going to be as straightforward as I'd anticipated," he said. "I'm not sure how we're going to resolve these issues, Veronica. Do you have a list of assets you can send me? Perhaps I can work around your requirements."

"Assets! No, I don't have a list! I keep telling you, I don't want anything at all!"

Veronica saw heads pop up all around the office and she made an effort to lower her voice.

"What the hell is going on, Cliff?" she hissed into the phone.

"Just the usual, Veronica," Cliff responded in his polished tones. "I work for Logan, of course, and I'm beginning to be uncomfortable thinking that your interests aren't being protected. Usually, in these cases where there isn't another lawyer, the two parties have already worked out everything between themselves."

Cliff paused, and then said casually, "Perhaps you could do that, you and Logan."

"Do what?" she asked.

"Work out an agreement. I might be able to help with the details, but if you could manage the broad outline..."

"And how would we do that?" Veronica asked testily, but she already knew the answer.

"Well, if you could get down to Neptune and talk with him in the next few days, that would give me some time to iron out the agreement." Cliff paused, and nothing in his tone would have suggested to Veronica that he was holding his breath.

"You want me to go...to Neptune?" Veronica asked.

"Well, that would certainly make things a lot easier," Cliff answered smoothly, just as though she hadn't asked that question in the same tone that a Russian under the old Soviet system might have said _You want me to go...to Siberia?_

There was a long pause while Veronica attempted to wrap her head around the idea of visiting Neptune. She tried to conjure up a suitable reaction, but her mind was a complete blank.

"I...I'll have to let you know, Cliff," she said finally.

On the other end of the line, Cliff McCormack expelled the breath he'd been holding. She hadn't given him a categorical 'no'. He'd take it.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Veronica," he said. "We don't want to let this drag out too long."

"No, no," she agreed faintly. "Don't want to drag it out."

xxxxxxxx

Her mind was racing as she considered Cliff's proposal. Go to Neptune, talk to Logan, iron out the details of the divorce agreement. The suggestion was utterly benign, but it had been so long since Veronica had been home - _could she even call it that anymore?_ \- that the prospect was nevertheless daunting. If Veronica was in a daze before Cliff's call, she was utterly useless afterwards, and she finally asked Len for the rest of the afternoon off

When Veronica got back to her apartment, she changed into her most comfortable sweats, made herself a cup of tea, and tried to remember just why it was she'd stayed away from Neptune for all those years. Away from her father. Away from Wallace. And from every place that ever meant anything to her while she was growing up.

She'd rushed away with little thought, convinced only that if she ran fast enough and far enough, she could outrun the pain she was feeling. She'd spent years hiding from that pain, building walls around her heart. Walls that had also kept out...other...feelings. Joy. Passion. Love.

Veronica didn't know why it was that she'd let herself feel those things again, but she knew when it had happened. And who had made it happen. And now everything was pushing past those crumbling walls around her heart. She hadn't outrun the pain after all, because here it was, her constant companion for weeks now.

So, really, it made no difference at all, she supposed, whether she was in San Francisco or Neptune. She seemed to have lost the ability to hide from her feelings, and she was tired of trying to find it.

The next morning, Veronica slipped into Len Rosetti's office, and told him she'd like to take some time off. A week, at least. Maybe more. Len didn't know what had brought about this change of heart, but he was more than happy to grant her request.

Veronica didn't wait for Cliff to call her back, but called him instead. Told him she'd be in Neptune the following day and she'd be in touch. It was fortunate it wasn't a Face Time call, or she might have noticed the look of smug self-satisfaction that crossed his face.

"Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help," was all he said before hanging up.

And while Veronica packed and made flight reservations, in his shabby offices in downtown Neptune, Cliff Mc Cormack was quietly crowing. _Okay, kid,_ Cliff thought to himself, _ball's in your court._

xxxxxxxx

Veronica had given some thought to letting her father know she was coming, but ultimately, she decided against it. She wasn't sure how long she'd be in Neptune, or what might happen while she was there, and she wanted to keep her options open. There was always the chance that the visit would prove far more distressing than she'd anticipated, and she'd be forced to return to San Francisco almost immediately.

She had likewise considered whether or not to let Logan know, but eventually decided against that, too, because she didn't want to be boxed into anything pre-rearranged. Veronica had spent three weeks in a fog, and that fog had now lifted. She was back in control, and she wanted to stay that way.

The more she'd thought about the trip, packed for it, planned for it, the greater her anticipation and excitement. By the time she notified the one neighbor she actually knew that she'd be out of town, and arranged with the post office to hold her mail, she'd changed her mind several times about when she should leave, each time making a change to an earlier flight. But when she finally went online, Veronica surprised even herself by booking a seat on the 8 a.m. shuttle.

She arranged for a 6 a.m. pickup, and cursed her idiocy when she set her alarm for 5:30, sure that she'd be tossing and turning all night, and consequently exhausted by the time she got on the plane. But by 10 p.m., she'd fallen into a deep dreamless sleep. Or if not exactly dreamless, then at least a sleep where the bad dreams were kept at bay.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica rented a car at the airport and drove to Neptune, finding the route both familiar and unfamiliar. The freeway leg hadn't changed much, but when she exited onto local roads, Veronica was amazed at how many new businesses seemed to have sprung up in the last six years.

By the time she got into Neptune proper, it was nearly 10:30, and it had been a long time since her hurried breakfast of coffee and a muffin. Veronica was tempted to stop at Java the Hut or some other coffee shop, but then she had another thought. It was Saturday, so perhaps she'd be lucky...

Ten minutes later, Veronica pulled into the driveway of the same craftsman-style bungalow that Alicia Fennel had lived in since she'd moved to Neptune twelve years earlier. Veronica supposed Alicia could have afforded something grander now, but she was glad that she hadn't moved. Glad that this was one place that hadn't changed while she herself had been living in San Francisco, running away from life.

She rang the doorbell, wondering where she'd go next if Alicia weren't home. Had almost turned away, in fact, when the door opened, and Alicia stood before her with a shocked expression on her face.

"Veronica!" she said, her smile wide. "What are you doing here?" And then her face changed. "Is...is something wrong with Keith? Is that why you're in town?"

Veronica saw the look of panic cross Alicia's face, and hastened to reassure her, while noting that maybe there were a few things her dad hadn't told _her_ either.

"Oh, no, Alicia! I'm sorry," she said. "Dad's fine, or at least he was when I talked to him a few days ago."

"Well, he was okay last night," Alicia said, her smile returning, shaking her head at her own foolishness. "Where are my manners?" she added. "Come on in."

"Is that your car in the driveway?" Alicia asked, shutting the door behind Veronica.

"It's the one I rented at the airport," she confirmed.

"So...you just got into town then?" Alicia was trying to make sense of it all. "And...I'm your first stop?"

"As a matter of fact you are," Veronica said.

Alicia looked at her shrewdly. "I just made this fantastic coffee cake," she said, putting her arm lightly around Veronica's shoulder. "How about you help me out since I don't want to eat it all myself?"

Veronica smiled. "I never turn down that kind of an offer," she said.

Soon they were seated at the table in Alicia's cozy kitchen, drinking coffee and eating cake. Alicia laughed when Veronica wolfed hers down.

"I don't know how you stay so slim," she said, cutting Veronica a second piece.

"Metabolism," the younger woman answered around a mouthful of cake. When she'd polished off that one, too, she put down her fork with a sigh.

"Thanks, Alicia," she said. "That was delicious. I didn't have time for much of a breakfast and I was famished."

"So I saw," Alicia said with a grin. "And is that why you stopped in today? Hoping I'd have some goodies?"

"Not exactly," Veronica said with a smile, "but I'll consider it a bonus. I really came by to say 'thank you' for everything you did in San Francisco. I never got the chance to tell you that day and I just...wanted you to know."

Alicia nodded. "I'm glad it all worked out," she said easily.

When Veronica said nothing else, Alicia asked, "And is that all you came to see me about?"

Veronica smiled and nodded.

Alicia waited a beat and then moved her inquiries in another direction.

"But that can't be the reason why you're in Neptune, Veronica. I'm sure you didn't come 500 miles just to tell me thanks," she continued, quirking a brow. "And it's not about Keith. I'd be willing to bet he doesn't even know you're in town."

It hadn't been a question, but Veronica answered anyway with a quick nod. "You're right," she said. "He doesn't. Not yet, anyway."

"So why _are_ you here?" Alicia wanted to know. "Why, after almost six years, did you come back to Neptune today?"

Veronica's expression changed, and after a short pause she said, "I'm honestly not sure."

"Well that sounds intriguing," Alicia said, wondering why she was being forced to pull the information out of her. "Where are you headed next?"

Veronica's eyes flickered, and she was silent for so long that Alicia thought she wasn't going to answer. But then she sighed and spoke quietly.

"To Logan's. I'm going to Logan's."

Alicia was silent as she waited for some further explanations but when Veronica finally spoke, it was the last thing that Alicia expected to hear.

Veronica took a deep breath and said, "Logan told me that he...confided in you."

Alicia understood immediately. "About the baby," she said softly, nodding, her eyes full of sympathy. "Yes, Logan did tell me. I'm so sorry for your loss, Veronica. I can't even imagine how hard that must have been."

She could see that Veronica had something else that she wanted to say, watched her struggle with whether or not to speak, and finally make a decision.

"Did he...when Logan talked to you..." Veronica swallowed convulsively, then looked straight at Alicia and forced herself to continue.

"Did it seem as if he...blamed me?" she asked finally, and the words were so soft that Alicia could hardly hear her.

"Of course not," Alicia said immediately, stunned that she would even ask. "Why would he ever think that? No one could possibly blame you, Veronica. Sometimes things are just...out of our control."

"Yes, I know," Veronica said, her eyes shifting to a spot on the wall just behind Alicia.

When Veronica said nothing more, instead beginning to gather her things, Alicia asked a question of her own.

"And is that why you're going to see Logan today?" she wondered. "To...talk about the baby?"

"No," Veronica said, shaking her head. "I've come to discuss...our divorce." Alicia's eyes widened in surprise.

Veronica got up from her chair and picked up her handbag. She suddenly needed to get away from Alicia's sympathy and her kind eyes.

"Thanks for the snack," she said, trying her best to smile. "And I will call Dad later, I promise."

She'd moved so quickly that it was a moment before Alicia realized she was leaving, and she rose hastily to see Veronica to the door.

Veronica was already in the doorway when Alicia gave in to impulse, wrapping her in a brief hug, then pulling back to look her in the eyes.

"Veronica," she said quickly, before she could change her mind, "I don't know why you asked if Logan blamed you for anything that happened with your baby. You need to believe that he doesn't and he wouldn't, because it could never, ever be your fault."

"If you don't want to talk to me about this," Alicia continued softly, "talk to Logan. Please. Whatever it is that's going on inside your head, tell him about it. He loves you and he'll want to help."

Veronica nodded and gave Alicia a small smile.

"You're a...kind person, Alicia," she said. "I can see why my dad wants you in his life."

And then she was gone, and Alicia was left standing alone in her doorway.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica hadn't told Logan she was coming and she toyed now with the idea of calling him from her car. But she finally decided it wasn't necessary. If he wasn't home when she got there, she'd leave him a note, or send him a text or something.

Veronica had been a little surprised to hear that Logan had told Cliff to go ahead and draw up the divorce agreement, but she supposed she could hardly blame him. It's what she'd said she wanted, and she'd been pretty insistent. Still...it had only been a few weeks since they'd talked. How could he be sure she wouldn't change her mind?

As Veronica turned west into the twisting beachfront lanes and drives, her heart began to beat faster. She'd wondered if she'd remember how to find Logan's house, since she'd only lived there for a couple of months, and that had been six years ago. But as she automatically took the series of left and right turns that led directly to Logan's front door, she felt like some kind of human homing pigeon, powerless to stop the instinctive pull that would lead her to that one safe, familiar place.

When she arrived, Veronica saw that there was no car in his driveway, but that said nothing about whether or not he was home. Saltwater spray could ruin the finish on even the most expensive car, so Logan always parked in the garage, unless he was leaving again immediately.

By the time she'd shut off the motor, Veronica's palms were sweaty and she was beginning to feel light-headed. It was ridiculous, she thought. She'd spent the better part of nine days with Logan less than a month ago, and except for that very first moment, she hadn't been nervous at all.

Veronica gave herself pep talk, telling herself not to be silly. _It's just Logan. I can hardly remember when he wasn't a part of my life._

When she got to the front door, Veronica knocked very firmly, because she knew that sometimes, if you were out in the back, with the sound of the surf pounding, it was hard to hear someone knocking. She remembered trying to get him to install a doorbell, but he liked the idea of the old-fashioned knocker.

Of course, he could be surfing, she reasoned. Veronica didn't know if it was a particularly good day for surfing, but maybe it was. Or...maybe he was out. There was no reason to think he'd be home necessarily. He hadn't known she was coming. Of course, she should have called first. What an idiot she was, just showing up like this. She could just get back in her car...

The door opened suddenly, and Logan stood in front of her. When he saw her, his face went blank, then lit up like a starry night.

"Veronica," he said, barely breathing her name. "I...wh...what are you doing here? Never mind," he added quickly, before she could answer. "I don't care."

He opened the door wider. "Come in," he said.

Veronica walked in, looking around immediately to see what he might have changed. But he'd told her the truth. He may have added a few things here and there, but everything that had been in the house when she'd lived there with him six years ago could still be found.

The comfortable rocker by the fireplace, that was just big enough for her to curl up in with a book. The enormous farmhouse table in the kitchen, where she used the lay out her cookie sheets when she got a craving for snickerdoodles. That stupid grandfather clock on the mantel that bonged the hours so loudly that she'd hidden the key so Logan couldn't wind it. She peered at it now and noted it was stopped at 4:55. Maybe Logan had never found that key where she'd used a stool to hide it high on a pantry shelf.

"How does it look?" Logan asked with a smile, when he saw her surveying the premises.

"It looks wonderful," she answered truthfully. And indeed, a sharp feeling of _nostalgia? homecoming?_ swept over her as she stood in the doorway trying to see everything at once.

"Come out and see what I've done in the back," he said, leading her through the kitchen to the large, paved patio area.

"This is beautiful, Logan," Veronica said sincerely, "You've made the patio three times as big as it used to be. And look at all this furniture!"

"It's pretty comfortable," he said. "Why don't you try it out?"

Veronica lay down on the padded teakwood lounger and said with a laugh, "Ah, this is the life."

"It is indeed," Logan said, looking at Veronica as though she'd just dropped down from heaven to pay him a visit.

Veronica blushed when she realized what she'd said, and then was annoyed with herself because she never blushed. But really, how could she help but be embarrassed under the circumstances? This wasn't, after all, _her_ life. She'd already said pretty firmly that she didn't want it to be, and she was here today because it appeared that Logan finally agreed with her.

Yep. Embarrassing.

"What can I get you?" he asked. Logan had always been a good host.

"Maybe a soda?" Veronica squinted up at him uncertainly.

"Nothing to eat?" Logan slapped his hand over his heart dramatically, as though the thought of Veronica without food in front of her at all times was giving him palpitations.

"Hardy-har-har," she said with a smirk. "Actually I just ate two pieces of the most delicious coffee cake at Alicia's."

"And where's mine?" he asked, and she looked stricken for a moment until he assured her he was only teasing. "I wouldn't want to spoil my lunch," he added with a laugh.

Logan came back with two cans of soda, a coke for himself and a citrus drink for Veronica, and flopped down in the other lounge chair. She accepted the drink, and never even wondered how he knew just what she wanted, and they clinked those cans of soda together without giving it a second thought.

"I really like Alicia," Logan said, "and I think maybe she and your dad..." He waggled his eyebrows and smirked at Veronica.

"Yup. I'm pretty sure you're right about that," Veronica agreed. "I'm glad for him," she added softly.

They were both silent for a moment, a comfortable, companionable silence.

"So...I didn't interrupt anything important, I hope," Veronica said finally. "What were you doing when I got here, anyway?" she asked.

Logan looked at her for a moment, and the expression on his face almost took her breath away.

"I was waiting for you," he said softly.

Veronica cleared her throat, trying very hard to remember that she was only there because she'd been asked to settle the terms of their divorce with the man sitting next to her. But at that moment, with the warmth of the sun on her face, the faint sounds of the surf lulling her into relaxation, the smell of jasmine in the air, the sweet taste of citrus in her mouth, and the beauty of Logan's smile across from her, it was hard to think of anything except the overload on all five senses.

"Did Cliff tell you I was coming?" she asked, looking away from Logan, forcing herself back to reality. "Is that why you were waiting for me?"

A puzzled frown appeared on Logan's face. "Cliff?" he said quizzically.

"So I guess he _didn't_ tell you then. I thought he might have after I called him back, but it doesn't matter. We can still work on it," she said confidently.

"Work on it," Logan said with no inflection, trying to play catch-up, and having a tough time.

Logan's mind wandered as he watched Veronica drink her soda. Cliff, he thought. The man had been there only a couple of days before, sitting in the same chair that Veronica was currently occupying. Logan thought back to that visit. He remembered talking to Cliff about Veronica, telling him how she'd forgotten all the good things. That if he could just get her to come back to this house...

Logan sucked in a breath, then covered it quickly, trying not to give himself away. Was it possible that Cliff had somehow found a way to actually get Veronica to Neptune? What the hell could he have told her? She obviously didn't think he was sick, because he knew damn well she wouldn't be sitting there with a smile on her face if she thought he was about to breathe his last. So what the fuck was it?

Logan knew he'd lost track of the conversation when he heard, "...I tried to tell him that there weren't going to be any settlements. That you and I had agreed on that a long time ago, but it was like talking to a wall, Logan." She turned to him expectantly.

 _Settlements?_ Was it possible that Veronica thought she was there to talk about the terms of...their divorce? Logan frowned. She didn't seem too unhappy about the prospect. Still, if she thought he'd initiated it...

But Veronica's next words made everything crystal clear.

"I will say I was a little surprised by your...efficiency, Logan. There was really no need for a mad rush, was there? I mean, it's been six years. A few more months wouldn't have mattered."

Veronica shrugged, trying to hide her frown, but Logan suddenly understood it all. Something that Cliff had told her, probably in the interests of getting her to Neptune, had made her think that he, Logan, was pushing to seal the deal on the divorce. And, he'd just discovered, she was not very happy about it. Not at all.

Logan's heart began to beat like a hammer as he considered the implications, and he was more hopeful than he'd been in weeks. Dammit! If he could only shift her focus from - what the hell was it? _settlements?_ \- maybe there'd be no need for Cliff at all.

"You know what, Veronica?" he said suddenly, interrupting her. "Why don't we just forget all that stuff today? Let's just visit. How long are you staying in Neptune?" he asked, expecting her to say that she was only there for the weekend. But Veronica surprised him.

"I'm...not really sure," she said. "I had some vacation time coming, so..." She shrugged. Apparently that was all the answer he was going to get. But for now, it was more than enough.

"Would you like to see the changes to the outside of the house?" he asked. "Why don't we go exploring," he said, grabbing Veronica's hand and pulling her up off the chair.

xxxxxxxx

By the time the two of them had made their way around the entire property, with Veronica exclaiming over every small addition to the landscaping, it was well past lunchtime.

"I love the new color you painted the house, Logan," she said now, gazing approvingly at the warm brown tone that had replaced the formerly cream-colored stucco.

"Well that's not too surprising, Veronica, since you picked that color out yourself," Logan said with a grin and a shake of his head.

"I _did_?" Veronica was perplexed until she remembered the day they'd spent driving around looking at the colors of other homes in the area. One day she'd found a light brown house that she had declared "perfect."

"I remember now, that house with the long walkway. It was this color. But," she looked at him in confusion, "how were you able to match it?"

Logan grinned. "Well, when I decided to have the house repainted a couple of years ago, I walked up that long walkway to the front door and asked the owners what color paint they'd used. They were happy to tell me."

Veronica was staggered. "You remembered where that house was? And our conversation about the color?" She could hardly believe it.

"I told you, Veronica," Logan said softly. "I haven't forgotten anything about our time together."

Veronica looked away from his intense gaze as Logan cleared his throat.

"So do you think Alicia's fabulous coffee cake is far enough in the past that you might consider having some lunch?" he asked.

Veronica narrowed her eyes. "Does that offer potentially include a pizza with the works from _Cho's_?" she asked. "I've actually had dreams about _Cho's p_ izza," she said, the expression on her face blissful.

Logan laughed. "I think we could manage that," he said, pulling out his phone. "Large or small?" he asked, then chuckled at the expression on her face. "Large it is," he said, without waiting for an answer.

They sat again on the loungers as they waited for lunch to arrive. The day was sunny after a week of gray cloudiness, and they were both enjoying the warmth.

Veronica decided to used the bathroom before lunch came and wandered down the hall to a part of the house she hadn't yet visited that day. On her way back she looked in on the guest room, the room she'd slept in for a month until the night she'd moved into Logan's bed. The room looked exactly the same, and the moment she crossed the threshold Veronica was assailed by memories.

The day she'd run into her bathroom to try to hide from Logan how desperately she wanted him. Listening to the sound of the rain as it battered against the tiled roof. Finding the inscription inside her wedding ring. Running down the hall to be with Logan...

Veronica turned quickly, trying to get away from the memories, which were coming fast and furious now. She was so eager to get out of that room that she nearly ran back into the hall only to find herself right in front of the door to another room. Veronica stopped, suddenly rooted to the spot. She knew exactly what was behind _that_ door. An empty room painted a beautiful pale yellow, a color she'd also chosen.

She should go. She should turn around right _now_. Go back to the kitchen, eat the pizza, talk with Logan. But somehow...she couldn't. She needed to see that room just one more time, look at that vast empty space with the yellow paint, the empty space in this house that matched the empty space in her heart.

Before she could think, or stop herself, or even hesitate, Veronica grabbed the knob, turned it, and flung open the door. Just as she'd known they'd be, the walls were still a pale yellow, but the room was not, in fact, completely empty. Directly across from the door, under a bank of windows through which the afternoon sun was streaming brightly, was an enormous pink teddy bear seated on a child sized rocker. There was nothing else in the room.

Veronica gasped, stunned to see that bear.

"What are you doing in here?"

She hadn't even heard Logan approach, but he was there suddenly, right behind her, and she heard the shock in his soft voice.

"You threw it out!" she said, her voice ragged. "I remember...that day...you told me you threw the bear in the trash! What's it doing here?"

He studied her as she stood there, her shoulders stiff and her back erect.

"Veronica..." Logan's voice was soothing. She loved that voice. But she wasn't going to turn around and look at him, she wasn't going to do anything until he'd answered her question. She damn well wanted to know why that pink bear was still there when it was supposed to be gone. Gone like....everything else.

"I did," he began finally. "I did throw it out. But I went back and got it before they collected the trash." The more he spoke, the shakier his voice became, as though it was an effort just to say these words. "I'd gotten rid of everything else. This...the bear, it was the only thing I had left of her."

Veronica was silent for a moment, and then she sighed.

"And...the chair?" She had to know everything.

Logan moved around her and pulled the bear off the rocker. On the cross-piece on the back of the chair, painted in bright red, was the name "Lynn."

"I'm not sure how to explain," he said, running his hands through his hair, hoping he could make her understand.

"I was driving around one day, not long after...I...I did that a lot...for a while. And...and there it was, just sitting on the sidewalk. Like it was waiting there for me. I don't know, it was a yard sale or something. So I bought it."

He studied Veronica's face, trying to see if she understood. Why should she, he wondered. He'd barely understood the impulse himself. He shook his head and continued.

"And I know there was never a chance that we were going to name her after...my mother. Hell, even I wouldn't have wanted to do that. But...the bear...it was just sitting on the floor under that window. And I thought...I thought...I'll put it on this chair."

Logan's voice had become faint, and he cleared it now with an effort.

"Christ, Veronica," he went on. "I don't know if I believe in heaven or any of that. In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't. But somehow...I don't know...the idea of my mother and my daughter together. God!" he finished, "I know it makes no sense."

Veronica had said nothing throughout his explanation, but there was a bright sheen in her eyes.

"You keep saying 'she', and 'her', and 'my daughter', Logan," Veronica said, her voice hollow. "You were always so sure it was going to be a girl, weren't you?"

For a moment, Logan just stared at her. Then his lips twisted in pain, and he took a deep breath, expelling it slowly

"No, that's not it, Veronica," he said quietly. "It was...she was a girl."

Veronica felt like she'd been physically assaulted.

"How...how can you possibly know that?" she asked, her voice quivering, her body starting to shake.

"Don't you remember? They asked at...the hospital if we wanted to know, and you said 'no' so quickly and I didn't want to...disagree. But later...after you'd left...I...changed my mind and...I called the doctor."

Logan ran his hands lightly down her arms and looked into her eyes. "It was a baby girl we lost that day, Veronica," he said gently.

For just a fraction of a second, Veronica didn't move, didn't make a sound. She barely breathed. And then she seemed to collapse into herself, and a sob came out of her, a sob that became a wail. She went down then, pulling Logan with her, and soon the two of them were huddled together on the floor in each others' arms, and crying for their child, a daughter, who'd never had the chance to love them back the way they'd loved her.

They clung to each other, as the tears streamed down, and it was devastating and difficult, and six years later than it should have been.

Logan's sobs finally subsided, and he stroked Veronica's hair as they sat there wrapped up in each other. He tried to see her face, but she kept it hidden in his chest.

"Veronica," he said, caressing her gently, "please look at me."

But she just shook her head back and forth and when he finally, finally, coaxed her head up, he saw such a look of devastation that he was heartsick.

"I'm so sorry, Veronica," Logan said, and all the love he felt for her was there in his voice. "This shouldn't have happened to us. We should never have had to lose our little girl."

"You didn't lose her Logan," Veronica said immediately, her voice barely a whisper.

"What?" he said. "If you think I didn't care..."

"No, no," she said, interrupting him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "That's not what I meant at all. I meant... _I_ lost her. After she was born, it would have been the two of us taking care of her, but up till then, it was my job. _My_ job, Logan, and I failed miserably! I didn't keep her safe, I didn't keep her from harm..." Fresh tears began to fall as she confessed her sin to him.

"Veronica, that's crazy!" he said. "There was nothing you could have done. Nothing anyone could have done. The doctor told us that over and over."

"Then why do I feel this way?" she cried, studying his face intently. "Why do I feel like if I'd only tried a little harder, taken better care of myself, she'd...she'd be with us here today."

Logan wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her as close to him as possible, as they huddled together on the floor of that room with the pale yellow walls.

"Oh, Veronica," he said gently. "You feel that way because you're Veronica Mars. Because you think you can control everything that happens to you, and that you're responsible for every bad thing that happens to anyone you love."

"My god," he said suddenly, pulling back to look at her. "Have you been carrying this around with you for six years? I know you better than anyone...and I had no idea you had taken on that shitload of guilt..."

Veronica sighed. "I don't think... I wasn't ready to talk about it, Logan, wouldn't even let myself think about it really. I just couldn't forgive myself because when I first found out I was pregnant, I wasn't sure...you know...." Her voice trailed off, but he understood perfectly. She hadn't been happy to find she was pregnant, hadn't wanted the baby, not then, and that just triggered all that guilt when their baby died.

"So if she'd lived..." he began.

"Baby Lynn," she interjected.

Logan looked at her oddly. "Okay, Baby Lynn, but we'd never have called her that..."

"Probably not," she agreed.

He nodded. "If Baby Lynn had lived, would you have loved her?" he asked.

Veronica looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Of course," she said, her brow wrinkling. "What did you think?"

"I think," he said quietly, "that you would have been a great mom and you need to stop feeling guilty about something you had no control over. I think you need to forgive yourself for not wanting her right away, and remember that in the end, you loved her very much."

Veronica searched his eyes for a few moments, then twisted herself around so that she was sitting in the vee of his legs with her back to him. When she pulled his arms around her, Logan scooted closer, as close as possible, and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Oh, the comfort that flowed from those long, strong arms that circled her shoulders. And from the soft caress of that silky hair against his cheek. It breathed new life into them both. Neither was sure how long they sat there together, but finally Veronica heaved a sigh.

"I think I'm hungry," she said abruptly. "Who knew catharsis could work up such an appetite?"

"Yeah," Logan said, chuckling. "I think you should help me up off this floor so we can reheat our stone cold pizza. I'm starving."

xxxxxxxx

In the end, they decided to eat the pizza as is. Veronica declared room temperature pizza to be a delicacy, and while Logan wasn't so sure, he shrugged and went along with it.

By dinner time, Veronica was still there, so they ordered in again, this time Chinese. Logan protested that he wanted something a little more elegant, but Veronica declared that it was her first day in Neptune in six years and that _nostalgia_ was the watchword.

They'd been lying on the lounge chairs, talking...or companionably _not_ talking...for hours. She'd been putting it off all day, but when the sun began to set, Veronica knew she'd have to say something.

"Logan," she said, sitting up abruptly and interrupting him in the middle of a story about his newest potential _adventure_.

He quieted immediately, becoming very still. She could see the uncertainty in his face, and she smiled at him affectionately.

"Logan...I'd like to stay here," she said. "I'd like to talk to you some more about...our daughter, about what happened six years ago, I guess about a lot of things. But I'm not ready to say that I'll stay...forever. I can't make that promise."

Veronica's voice was a little hesitant as she studied Logan's face, remembering how he'd reacted the last time she hadn't been able to promise _forever_. When he didn't answer immediately, she began to panic a little. Maybe she shouldn't have suggested it.

And then Logan sat up, reached out and stroked Veronica's cheek, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. He still could hardly believe that she was there, that they'd spent most of the day just being together. He'd left her behind in San Francisco, out of hurt and frustration, and an anger that had dissipated even before he'd reach the hotel lobby. But everything he'd said to her had been true, and he couldn't have taken it all back, even if he'd known how.

But today was different. He'd wanted her here, in his house, and by some miracle - or sleight of hand, perhaps - here she was. And they'd at last been able to talk about the baby, about the worst thing they'd ever gone through together. That in itself was a goddamn miracle.

But they'd been more than that, he and Veronica, more than just that one tragedy. It was a terrible thing that had happened to them, but he didn't want it to define the rest of their lives. If he wanted Veronica to remember the good parts, the parts that made their relationship work, then she needed to be here, in whatever role she felt comfortable playing. If not as his wife, then as his friend, his oldest friend.

"Stay," he said at last. "Your old room is still here and there's no one else I'd rather have using it. And besides," he added with a grin, "I haven't had a decent snickerdoodle in years."

"Good," she said, laughing. "Because there's really no place else I'd rather be."


	22. Part II - Chapter 17

Part II - Chapter 17

When Veronica awoke on Sunday morning, she felt lighter than she had in years. Six years, to be exact. The darkness that had always seemed to be lurking just out of sight, threatening to overwhelm her if she were not vigilant in keeping it at bay, had finally begun to dissipate.

She had thought that the darkness was grief and pain. From losing her child, of course; that was foremost. But Veronica knew it was more that that. There was also that hard truth that she'd finally had to accept. That she was flawed in some way. That she would never be able to trust in the intimacy of a deeply loving and committed relationship. Her myriad failed attempts to build such a relationship with Logan Echolls had been proof of that. The love that flowed between them so readily had not been enough to chase away the uncertainty, the terrifying vulnerability that she'd never been able to conquer.

For six years, Veronica had sought to elude the darkness in two ways. In the first instance, by never, ever letting herself think about the child. And in the second, by limiting herself to a sort of superficial intimacy, a paradox that seemed to work for her. For a long time, these methods were a great success.

But then two things happened.

First, Logan Echolls came back into her life, and she learned that years of avoiding contact with the man she loved had not diminished that love one iota. The onslaught of emotion was nearly overwhelming, and all her careful attempts to feel the joy while avoiding the pain were for naught.

And second, when everything imploded and Veronica could no longer avoid peering into the darkness, she found not only the grief and the pain that she had expected, she also found a reservoir of guilt that had been buried so deeply that not only was it unexamined, it was unacknowledged. It was a festering wound that had inhibited her ability to cope with the grief and process the pain.

The idea that she might have in some way been at fault in the death of her child had come upon her gradually, but once in her head she couldn't seem to shake it, and she finally came to understand that it had been there all along. The logical part of Veronica wanted to reject it out of hand, but late at night, as she struggled to rest, she could never be sure. That's when she'd wonder, against all reason, if Logan blamed her, too.

She'd never expected to come to this house and just blurt it all out. She'd never planned to enter that room at all, hadn't thought she'd have the courage to even open the door. It had been an impulse, born of desperation, to confront that which she feared the most. And then something extraordinary had happened.

She could never have predicted anything like the conversation she'd had with Logan. There'd been a healing quality to their shared grief that had finally helped her process her loss. They'd had a child who had not lived and whose death had been terribly difficult to accept. She could say those things to herself now, think them, even talk about them. It was still sad, but not overwhelmingly so. The sadness was there, but the darkness had receded.

Yes, Veronica felt lighter than she had in years.

When she awoke in her old bedroom, she felt refreshed from her first good night's sleep in weeks. She padded out to the kitchen to find a note from Logan telling her that he'd left early for a regular Sunday morning date with a surfing buddy, and that he'd be back by mid-morning.

Veronica brought her coffee out to the patio, and sat in the same lounge chair where she'd spent so much time the previous day. She gazed out at the water, wondering idly if it was a good day for surfing, hoping that Logan was enjoying himself.

As for herself, she didn't want to stir from that chair. She was so tired, so mentally exhausted from everything that had happened in the previous month, that she wondered if she'd ever feel like moving again. Her mug was still half-full of coffee when she drifted back to sleep, lying there on Logan's sunny patio.

Logan hadn't at first realized that she was asleep, and by the time he did, it was too late. The noise he made bounding across the patio and dropping into the other lounger was just enough to wake her up.

"So how was surfing?" Veronica asked groggily, peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Not bad," Logan said. "But I'd had enough. Started to wonder what you were up to. But now I see that you're just lazing around," he added with a grin.

"But it's so nice out here," she moaned, "and it seems like forever since I've felt like just relaxing."

Logan quirked a brow at her. "When have you ever felt like just relaxing?" he asked with a smile "When have I ever been able to get you to slow down?"

"Today," she said. "Today I feel like doing nothing but lying around and talking. Maybe eating."

Logan laughed. " _Maybe_ eating? Pretty sure eating is a given. Have you had breakfast?" he asked.

"Nope," she said, patting her stomach. "And I'm starving."

"Well, let's see what we can do about that," he said, pulling her up off the lounger. "I think I might be able to offer eggs and toast. Might even have some...bacon," he added with a wink.

"Now you've got my attention," she said, following him into the kitchen.

Fifteen minute later, they were sitting at the farmhouse table, companionably polishing off their simple breakfast when Veronica glanced at him suddenly and said abruptly, "You know, I didn't really see how it could have been my fault."

Logan's brow wrinkled.

"About the baby, I mean. I couldn't figure out how it had been something I'd done."

He nodded then, knowing she had more to say.

Veronica shook her head. "But somehow, once I'd gotten the idea into my head, I couldn't seem to shake it. No matter how crazy it seemed. That happens to me sometimes, you know?" she told him, as though letting him in on a secret. "I get this idea, and even though it doesn't make sense, I can't seem to let go of it."

He tried to hold it in, but he simply couldn't contain himself, and his face broke into a wide grin.

"You think this is a new trait?" he asked.

Veronica smiled. "Well, maybe not," she conceded.

Logan gazed at her affectionately. "But _that_ idea, you've let that one go now," he said, making it a statement. "You know you weren't to blame."

Veronica nodded as she swallowed the last piece of bacon. "I do," she said. "It was...no one's fault."

Logan could see by her thoughtful expression that she had more on her mind, so he wasn't surprised when Veronica asked softly, "How did you get...through it all, Logan? You had to deal with everything in the house...in...her room."

He shrugged, thinking back on those first dark weeks. "I just...did," he said finally.

Logan sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Veronica. I was kind of a mess...afterwards. Spent way too much time drinking at this dive bar down the road. Practically had my own table."

He shook his head. "Course that's how I met Dexter," he added with a grin, remembering that rainy night more than five years ago.

"Dexter?" Veronica asked.

"Why don't we take the coffee out to the patio," Logan suggested, "and I'll tell you all about Dexter C. Briggs."

Logan and Veronica spent the next several hours catching up on where life had taken them in the years they'd been out of touch. Of course, Veronica had heard some of Logan's story before at the Farnsworths' dinner, but that was the abridged version, without the patented Echolls commentary that gave his tales their insouciance.

"And how is it that you trusted Dick Casablancas to run one of your businesses?" she asked finally, shaking her head.

"Dick is actually a partner in the surf shop," he said, enjoying her look of astonishment. "And he takes it very seriously. The guy uses all kinds of software that he's found about running a small business. We've turned a hefty profit every year."

Veronica narrowed her eyes. "So," she said, "Dick and Mac."

Logan shrugged. "Not really a surprise to me," he said. "And I'm not gonna be the one to say it can't work."

Veronica nodded. She wasn't going to say it either. _Stranger things have happened_ , she thought.

"I'm gonna shower," she said, "but I don't really feel like going out. What would you think about maybe watching a movie?"

Logan smiled. Anything Veronica wanted to do was all right with him. While she showered, he mulled over the choice of movies, and finally made a pile of some of her all-time favorites. _The Big Lebowski, The Princess Bride, Easy Rider_. He grinned to himself. Maybe that last one wasn't so much _Veronica's_ favorite.

"Which one?" he asked when she finally emerged with a shiny face and wet hair.

Veronica looked over the choices, smirking when she saw that Jack Nicholson had made the cut.

"I say we do all three," she said finally, "starting with _Easy Rider_. I think it's high time I investigated exactly how much of that winning essay you wrote senior year was plagiarized." She declared her intentions with brows raised and lips pursed in disapproval.

Logan's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. "I am wounded, Mars, wounded," he protested, slapping his hand to his chest for emphasis. "I'll have you know I wrote that damned essay myself, I just took the...the theme from the movie," he added self-righteously.

Veronica crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"And anyway," Logan added, his face the picture of outraged innocence, "it's too late for you to blow up that stadium, Veronica. I know that's what this is about. You wanted to be the one to hit the plunger. Well," he considered, a finger to his chin, as he eyed her sideways, "I suppose I shouldn't encourage these violent tendencies of yours, but if you want, I can start looking around and see if I can find you a building of your very own to blow up. I'm sure I could..."

Logan's generous offer was interrupted when the DVD case that Veronica launched clipped him on the side of his head.

"Hey!" he said. "That hurt! See? Violent tendencies," he added virtuously.

Veronica crossed the distance between them until she was standing right in front of him. She would have been in his face, if only there hadn't been nearly a one-foot difference in their heights. But what Veronica lacked in inches, she made up for in ferocity.

"Put in the damned movie, Logan," she snarled into his chest.

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, his eyes twinkling.

They spent the rest of the day watching old favorites and ordering in more food. Logan insisted on "real food," so Veronica put in a call to _Mama Leone's._ Logan, who had been thinking more along the lines of a thick steak, sighed, recalling all the lasagna he'd consumed in the past few weeks. And kept his fingers crossed that there'd be even more of it in his future.

Veronica made it through _Easy Rider_ and _The Princess Bride_ (which came with a side of manicotti), but her lids started to feel heavy before the opening credits finished for _The Big Lebowski._ Logan smiled when, within ten minutes of the start of the film, he began to hear those soft snuffling sounds that Veronica always refused to admit she made.

He knew he should probably rouse her and send her off to bed, but he couldn't bear to let her out of his sight. Not so soon. Logan grabbed a blanket and covered her gently, trying not to wake her. He lowered the volume on the film, and spent the next couple of hours with The Dude in the background, while he gave most of his attention to just watching Veronica sleep.

He forced himself not to touch her, not to stroke her hair or her arm, as she lay curled under that blanket. She'd been there for two days, and Logan desperately wanted her to stay. He'd locked away his feelings for Veronica for six years, but now they'd all come flooding back, and he was drowning in them.

When the closing credits rolled on the film he wasn't watching anyway, Logan turned off the TV, and considered his options. He was sure he could easily carry Veronica into her room, but he also knew what a temptation it would then be to pull her close and breathe in her scent, to subtly stroke her back, or drop a soft kiss on her hair. None of it would be a good idea.

Logan sighed and gently shook Veronica's arm.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," he teased. "Time to wake up and go to bed."

"Hmmm?" Veronica was groggy and disoriented, which probably accounted for the loving smile she gave him.

"Night, Logan," she said sleepily, wrapping her arms around him briefly and kissing him on the cheek, before trailing down the hall toward her bedroom.

"Good night, Veronica," he whispered to himself.

xxxxxxxx

Logan awoke the next morning as he always did these days, his thoughts flying immediately to Veronica. He sighed happily as he remembered that she was right there in his house.

The previous morning he'd recalled, too late, that he'd never cancelled his Sunday morning surfing date with Kyle. The door to the guest room had still been closed as he'd tip-toed past, so Logan had left Veronica a note, grabbed his board and his wetsuit, and run down the beach to keep his appointment. But after he'd wiped out for the fifth time, Kyle had told him with a laugh that his mind was obviously somewhere else and he should go the hell home before he killed himself.

But this morning, Logan had nothing he had to do and no place he had to be. He leaped out of bed and hauled himself into the bathroom, wondering if Veronica was still asleep. By the time he threw on a t-shirt and sweats and wandered down the hall, he saw that the guest room appeared to be empty.

Logan moved on to the kitchen, and then the patio, expecting to find Veronica curled up with a mug of coffee, as he had the day before. But she was neither place, and an icy sliver of panic settled in his stomach. _The hell! She wouldn't just leave...would she?_

He ran to the front door, peering out at his driveway, and breathed a sigh of relief. There was her rental car, still sitting exactly where she'd parked it on Saturday. When he didn't find her in the media room, he began to look around for a note that said she'd gone for a swim, or a walk, because, dammit, he'd searched the whole damn house...

Logan stopped short. Not the _whole_ house, he suddenly realized.

He opened the door to the yellow room to find Veronica sitting on the floor, clinging to the pink bear, and quietly crying.

"Veronica?" he said, dropping down beside her. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with a watery smile. "I know why you kept the bear," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I spent...some time doing exactly what you're doing right now," he admitted.

"Oh, Logan," she said softly, shaking her head. "I'm...so sorry I left you to grieve on your own."

Logan nodded, then shrugged. "Bygones," he said, giving her a smile.

They were both quiet for a few moments and then Logan spoke again.

"You know, when I used to sit here and wonder what she'd have been like, I always pictured her looking exactly like you. Only smaller. But not too much smaller," he added with a teasing smile.

Veronica clutched the bear and groaned. "Oh, boy," she said. "Another short joke."

But she couldn't help the smile that came to her lips.

"Maybe she'd have been like you," she countered, turning her head to look at him fully. "Tall and strong...and loving."

Logan caught his breath when she locked her eyes on his, and it took every ounce of willpower not to reach out and touch her, because he knew that such a touch at that moment would not have been given in comfort, or in friendship, but would have been something else entirely.

He tried to keep the longing out of his eyes and out of his voice when he said softly, "Stay here as long as you like, Veronica. I'm going to get some breakfast." He stood up and turned to leave.

But Veronica surprised him. "Nope," she said. "I don't want to be sad anymore, Logan. I'll never forget her and...I wouldn't want to. But I don't want to be sad." She said it with determination, pulling herself up and replacing the bear on the rocker.

"Then what do you want to do today?" Logan asked, as they closed the door behind them.

"Well," she said, "I was thinking about baking some cookies."

xxxxxxxx

After breakfast, a quick survey of the contents of Logan's cupboards made it evident that she'd need a few things before there'd be any baking done in that kitchen. Logan had sugar, eggs, and salt, but everything else would have to be purchased.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as he watched her throwing jar after jar into the trash.

"Have you checked the expiration dates on these?" she said, clucking, as a nearly full but outdated jar of cinnamon was tossed away with the others.

Logan leaned against the counter, arms folded, with a small smile on his face.

"I know this may come as a shock to you, Veronica," he said, "but I don't actually do much baking."

"Clearly," she responded, without a trace of irony, as she concentrated on her task.

Logan laughed. "You know," he said, "a new Stater Brothers just opened up only a couple of miles from here."

Veronica stopped what she was doing. "And what would you know about Stater Brothers?" she asked, as she noted with amusement the eager anticipation that he was desperately trying to hide.

"Well, um, not much," he said diffidently. "I mean, I've never been there, but I thought maybe we could, you know, buy the stuff you need for your cookies and, uh...maybe a few other things."

Veronica grinned. "A few other things, huh?" she said. "Are you angling for a major trip to the supermarket, Logan? I'm not really sure your heart could take all that excitement," she added teasingly.

"Shut up," he said, feeling just a little embarrassed. He was, after all, a man of some sophistication.

She laughed at his discomfiture. "I didn't know I'd created a shopping addict," she said, "but I guess I'll have to help you feed your addiction. I'll meet you back here in twenty," she added, shutting the cupboard doors and going off to her room to shower and dress.

The trip to Stater Brothers was much like the one they'd made weeks earlier to the market in San Francisco. Except, you know, without the threat of death at the hands of a Mexican drug cartel hanging over their heads. Veronica picked up the spices and other ingredients she needed for her cookies, and then Logan insisted that they peruse every aisle in search of unknown delicacies and tasty treats.

By the time they got to the frozen foods, their wagon was piled high with everything that had caught his eye.

"Who's going to eat all this food?" Veronica finally asked, shaking her head.

"Well, uh, I thought you might stay for a little while longer, and we could maybe, you know, cook," he said uncertainly.

At that moment, Veronica was struck with such a burst of pure affection for the man standing beside her that she could hardly speak. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pat him on the head.

"Logan," she explained softly, "you and I couldn't eat all this in a month. But we can cook tonight, if you want," she added with a smile.

"Should I put some of it back?" he asked, wondering how it was he could have reached the age of 28 without knowing how much food he should buy at any one time.

Veronica looked at it and shrugged. "I guess we can freeze a lot of it, but you'd better be prepared to eat a lot of fruit salad," she added, eyeing the mountain of fresh fruit that Logan had tossed into the wagon.

They stopped in front of the cases filled with dozens of ice cream flavors and turned to each other expectantly.

"Chunky Monkey and Rocky Road?" Logan asked.

"What else?" Veronica said, agreeing, and grabbed two cartons of each flavor.

Logan stood there and wondered how the hell it was that the purchase of two gallons of ice cream instead of just the one could make him so damned happy.

The shopping trip, not to mention stowing away all that food, took all morning, so it wasn't until after lunch that the baking began.

"You know, Logan, you don't have to hang around while I bake," Veronica said, as she laid out the cookie sheets on the big table. The cookie sheets that she'd found right where she'd left them six years earlier, just as he'd told her she would. "Don't you have something you need to be doing? For your business, I mean?"

When he didn't answer, she stopped in the middle of measuring flour to ask, "What would you be doing if I weren't here?"

 _Wishing you were_ , he said to himself instantly. But aloud he said, "There's nothing I have to do today, although I do have a couple of appointments later on in the week." Logan had added that last part before he could stop himself, and he glanced at Veronica, hoping he hadn't spooked her. "Um, in case you're still here then," he said off-handedly.

Veronica just nodded and didn't seem to notice anything. "Okay then," she said. "Let's bake."

After they'd baked a whopping eight dozen snickerdoodles, (an even dozen of which had somehow found their way into Logan's mouth), she asked if he still had the cookbook with their favorite recipe for roast pork, and they spent the remainder of the afternoon cooking companionably. By the time they'd cooked, eaten, and cleaned up from their dinner, Logan could see that Veronica was tired again. He began to wonder just how much sleep she'd been getting recently.

"I think you should go to bed," he told her when she'd yawned for the third time.

Veronica smiled apologetically. "Maybe you're right," she said. "I don't know why I'm so tired. I've been sleeping really well since...since I got here."

She frowned. It was the first time she'd thought about it, realized how well she had slept.

"I'm glad," Logan said. "It looks like you needed it."

xxxxxxxx

It was raining when Veronica awoke the next day, and she wondered if perhaps that accounted for the feeling of restlessness that seemed to assail her almost immediately. She reluctantly dragged herself out to the kitchen, where she found Logan standing by the sliders that led to the patio, staring out at the storm.

"I guess it's a good thing we bought food yesterday," he said as he watched her make herself a cup of coffee. "It doesn't look like it'd be a good day to go out."

"No," she agreed, looking at him from across the kitchen. "It doesn't."

They stared at each other for a few moments, listening to the sound of the rain on the red-tiled roof, and just like that, as companionable and as easy as the last three days had been, there was a sudden tension that hadn't been there before. They'd been so comfortable with each other, teasing, laughing, totally in sync. But now it was like that connection had been pulled taut.

Veronica wondered what was wrong. Cabin fever? They _had_ been together pretty continuously for three days, but it wasn't like either of them couldn't leave anytime they wanted, she thought. Not that she _wanted_ to leave, and she was pretty sure that Logan didn't either. But if she had wanted to go, her car was still sitting in the driveway, she thought, peering out the window.

Her car was nowhere in sight.

"My car's gone," she said, as though she thought it might have been stolen. Logan look at her and shrugged.

"I put it in the garage," he said. "You left the keys by the door the other day, and, well, I thought we shouldn't leave it outside in the rain."

"You're all wet!" Veronica said, noticing for the first time that Logan's hair and shirt were soaked. "Why haven't you dried off?"

"I don't know," Logan said, looking down at himself as though he'd just then realized how wet he really was. "Guess I'd better change."

The path to his bedroom took him right past Veronica, and as he drew closer, she noticed the little rivulets of water that dripped down from his hair across his cheek, and was suddenly reminded of another time that Logan had gotten soaking wet. A night when she had crawled across the front seat of his car onto his lap and pulled his sodden shirt right off his body.

Veronica gave a soft gasp, and was filled with a sudden desire to reach up and brush away the water from his face and his hair. To remove his drenched shirt and wipe his body dry with her own. But she knew she couldn't, shouldn't. Mustn't. Those were the unspoken rules for this visit. Hands off.

Logan heard the sound and stopped abruptly, turning to face her.

"What's the matter?" he asked,

"Nothing," she answered shakily. "It's nothing."

But Logan seemed unconvinced. With a sigh, he asked, "Do you want to leave, Veronica? Is that why you were looking for your car?"

"No," she said quickly, "of course not," and her voice sounded hoarse to her. She struggled to find some reason why she couldn't go.

"We...we haven't had the discussions about...about the settlements," she said, suddenly remembering why she'd come to Logan's house in the first place. Or at least the reason she'd given herself.

"And is that what you want to do today?" Logan asked, and she heard the sudden tightness in his voice.

"If...if that's what _you_ want," she said faintly, wondering why the hell she'd ever brought it up.

There was a pause before Logan said uncertainly, "And if that's _not_ what I want?"

"Then we won't," she said quickly, grateful for the reprieve from her own stupidity.

Logan nodded and left the room, and Veronica breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't understand. They'd been touching for days now. Little pats and hugs of comfort and affection. She was pretty sure she remembered kissing him on the cheek the night she'd fallen asleep in the middle of the movie. It had all seemed so natural, nothing that would break their unspoken agreement.

Until the rain began. And now it seemed like every small touch might become a forbidden caress.

When Logan returned in dry clothes, Veronica worked hard to get things back to normal.

"Why don't I make pancakes?" she said.

Logan smiled at her and Veronica felt weak with relief.

"Well, we do have that new box of Bisquick," he reminded her, pulling out the griddle.

Later, they watched more movies, listened to music and played a few games. Logan liked video games, so they tried those for a while, then moved on to board games. The soft patter of the rain was the soundtrack to their day.

But despite Veronica's best efforts, the tension between them never seemed to completely dissipate, and by mid-afternoon, she was a bundle of nerves.

"I think I should call my dad," she said suddenly, jumping up from her chair in the middle of a game of Scrabble. "My, uh, my phone's in...the bedroom."

She was so eager to get away that Veronica practically ran to the guest room, shutting the door behind her with a sigh of relief. She found her phone and sent a quick text off to her dad. _Still at Logan's. I'll be in touch._ She really had nothing else to say.

Veronica lay down on the bed, exhausted from the intensity of the effort to maintain her distance from Logan. All day long the rain had sputtered softly outside, and Logan had smiled at her and spoken to her in that gentle way he had, and with every passing moment, her intense longing to touch, to caress, to embrace him had become more and more acute.

Veronica's eyes drifted shut as she tried to puzzle it out.

She opened her eyes when she heard Logan knocking softly on the door, and realized she must have drifted off.

"Veronica?" he said hesitantly. "It's getting late. Do you want me to order some dinner for us?"

She quickly jumped off the bed and opened the door. "I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I fell asleep."

She could see the hurt and bewilderment in his face, and it was hardly surprising. She'd been avoiding any sort of physical contact with him all day, and now she'd taken to hiding in her room.

"Um...dinner. Right. Anything you want is fine with me," she said, giving him her brightest smile.

Logan gave her a small tentative smile in return.

"I'll let you know when the food gets here," he said, and closed the door behind him.

They were so painfully awkward as they sat together eating their dinner of burgers and fries that Logan finally turned on the TV and they watched the news as they ate. They'd barely finished eating when he announced that he was going to bed. Veronica looked up in surprise.

"Are you...do you feel okay, Logan? I mean, you're not sick, are you?" she asked.

Logan shook his head and gave her a small smile. "I guess I'm just tired, too," he said. "Good night."

He turned to leave, but before Veronica had time to even mull over his sudden exhaustion, he was back.

"Veronica?" he said, and she looked up quickly at the sound of his voice.

"Yes?" she answered faintly.

Logan sighed and squared his shoulders as though coming to a hard decision.

"I know I asked you this before but...if you want to leave...please just tell me. It's...it'll be fine. I don't want you to feel like you can't be honest with me." He stopped, waiting for her response.

"I don't," she said quickly, "I don't want to go. Unless...you want me to." Veronica knew he could have taken no pleasure in her company that day. Perhaps he felt it would be easier for him if she just left. She was alarmed at the panic that began to build within her.

Logan smiled wryly. "I never want you to leave, Veronica," he said. "You can take that as a given. But you weren't happy today, and as much as I want you here, I don't want you to be unhappy."

"I want to stay," she said again. She knew at least that much.

"Okay," he said, nodding, and left her sitting there alone in the semi-darkness.

xxxxxxxx

Veronica had gone to bed herself shortly after Logan, and despite the nap she'd had earlier, she'd fallen asleep quickly. She couldn't be sure what woke her suddenly. It was still raining, she could hear it battering against the roof tiles, but it was a gentle sort of rain. There was no thunder that might have startled her awake, or flashes of lightning to bathe the room in light.

She rolled over to look at the clock, and saw that it was just past midnight.

Veronica sighed, and knew that she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep any time soon. She still felt edgy and unsettled, and she threw back the covers in frustration. Damn!

Veronica had a logical mind, but she very rarely applied it to her personal life, usually preferring to go on gut instinct. But maybe that's what she needed, she thought suddenly. Maybe she needed to follow the evidence, see where it led, try to draw some conclusions. Because her mind was racing, her emotions were in turmoil, and she knew she wasn't going to be able to stand much more.

Logan had asked her twice that day if she wanted to leave, and the second time, for just an instant, she'd been terrified that he'd suggest that she _should_ go. That her presence was making him unhappy. And she had panicked because the one thing she was sure of was that she wanted to stay.

It suddenly came to Veronica that she had no idea when she _would_ be ready to leave. Sometime. Of course. Certainly.

_But...not just yet._

There was a war going on inside Veronica as she tossed and turned. Her head was telling her she should make a plan, figure out the end game, but her heart was asking how she could bear to return to her solitary life when instead she could be here in the warmth of this house with Logan, talking with him, laughing with him...cooking with him.

Veronica smiled to herself, remembering the cookies they'd baked together. Her smile became a grin as she recalled that Logan had done more eating than baking. She'd been so happy that whole day, so full of joy. Her heart yearned for another day just like it. And another. And then another.

She thought suddenly of the garden. They'd gone all around the yard on Sunday, deciding where he should plant more flowers. She wanted to be there to watch them grow, see them bud and bloom and fill the garden with color.

She wanted to be there for his next trip to the supermarket.

She wanted to find out how his new adventure turned out.

She wanted to make sure he dried himself off properly the next time he got caught in the rain.

Veronica lay on that bed and felt the frustration bubble up in her.

Why should she have to go, dammit?! Why should she have to make a plan to leave this house, to leave Logan, when really...when really...

_She didn't want to leave at all._

Veronica caught her breath as that thought sank in. As she understood what it meant.

Her life had been chaotic lately, and she wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore. But right at that moment, Veronica knew with an absolute certainty that she could no more leave Logan than she could cut out her heart. In truth, it would be just the same. And if she didn't want - couldn't bear - to leave him, then didn't that mean that she was ready to commit to him, to give him the forever that he wanted? That he needed?

They'd lost their child, and she'd kept that pain and guilt inside her and let it come between them. For six years, she'd hidden herself away in a sort of half-life of stunted emotion and dreams denied, but now she was ready to change that. She was going to change that. She damned well refused to deny herself any longer.

And the instant she made that decision, Veronica was suffused with happiness. _She could stay with Logan, of course she could._ There was nothing to prevent it, nothing at all. It had only ever been she herself who stood in the way.

She thought that surely she'd be able to sleep then, but intense happiness can be just as disquieting as intense pain, and Veronica could no more calmly drift off to sleep than she could wipe the smile off her face.

She'd tell Logan tomorrow, she decided, knowing how happy it would make him, and thrilled that she'd be able to bring him that much joy. Veronica laughed aloud thinking about his reaction, and she was suddenly filled with so much love that she thought she'd burst if she couldn't at least look at him.

Promising herself that she wouldn't wake him, Veronica scrambled out of bed and down the hall to the master bedroom, but when she got there she was surprised to see a light under the door. _Could he possibly be awake?_ she wondered. _He went to bed before I did._

Before she could stop herself, Veronica knocked, calling his name softly as she opened the door. Logan looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to his bedside table. The drawer was open and he was holding something in his hands. Something that looked like a box.

"Veronica?" he said, clearly surprised to see her there. "What...?"

"What are you looking at?" she asked, moving into the room until she stood right beside him. "Is that...isn't that my box?" she said, as her eyes fastened on the small wooden inlaid box that Logan held in his hands.

It was just an inexpensive trinket box that he'd bought for her in a tourist shop on Santa Monica Pier. They'd only been married a couple of weeks, were still sleeping in their separate beds, but Veronica had wanted to do something "just for fun," so they'd settled on a day trip to the pier.

She'd seen the box and fallen in love with it, and Logan had bought it for her.

"It fell behind the dresser and I didn't find it until long after you'd left," he said, looking at her intently. "I...kept it. I could say it was because I didn't have any other reminders of you, but that would be a lie. There's nothing in this house that doesn't remind me of you."

"But...why are you looking at it in the middle of the night, Logan? Is...what's in it?" she asked, as she heard a jingling noise.

Logan sighed as he removed the top from the box. Inside, nestled together, lay their wedding rings, hers and Logan's. Two wide, flat platinum bands, the smaller one encrusted all around with a number of tiny diamond chips.

Veronica looked at the rings and a smile as bright as the sun lit her face.

She picked up the larger ring, twisting it around in her fingers until there was just enough light from the bedside lamp to allow her to see the inscription inside.

_L.E. + V.M. = Inevitable_

Almost, but not exactly, like the inscription inside...her ring.

Veronica's eyes filled with tears as she thought about how long Logan's love had endured, and wondered if she were worthy of such constancy.

"Logan," she said. "This ring shouldn't be in a box."

Logan watched wordlessly as Veronica picked up his left hand from where it lay in his lap and pushed the ring onto his finger. It still fit. Of course it did. Everything about them still fit.

"Could I have mine back, too?" she asked, still smiling like the sun, but her left hand shook a little as she she held it out to him. Logan looked at her for just a moment, and then he, too, smiled, picked up the ring and pushed it onto her finger.

She couldn't hold back the tears then, but the smile never left her face.

"Veronica?" Logan said at last, looking at her in wonder. "I don't...do I understand?"

"I hope so," she said, her voice choked with tears. "I'm promising forever."

"Oh, god," he whispered. "Are...are you sure? I want...I need you to be sure."

Veronica leaned down and kissed him softly, stroking his face gently.

"I just can't live without you anymore," she said simply. "I can't imagine why I'd even want to try."

"Veronica," Logan said again softly, breathing her name as though the word itself explained everything that was good about the world.

And then he pulled her down onto the bed with him, enfolded her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers as though he were a dying man and her mouth was the breath of life.

Veronica responded immediately, kissing him with abandon, moaning as she ran her hands up his arms and across his back. His skin felt electric beneath her fingers, and she pulled her mouth away from his and began to trail kisses along his neck.

"I've been dying all day," she whispered in his ear. "Trying to keep myself from touching you. I can hardly breathe for wanting you."

"Please touch me, Veronica," he said. "I've been waiting six years for you to touch me.".

Logan pulled her tank top over her head and cupped her breasts in his large hands, rubbing his thumbs along the nipples. He bent his head and gently sucked her right nipple into his mouth.

Veronica moaned his name as she scraped his earlobe with her teeth and kissed along his jaw.

"I want to touch you...kiss you...everywhere at once," he said, sliding his lips onto her left breast, and sucking strongly. Her body arched into his, and her pulse pounded as desire spread through her.

Logan moved back to her lips, kissing her frantically as he crushed her much smaller body to his own. Every part of them was in motion - lips, tongue, arms, legs - as they curved against one another, trying to get as close as possible.

Veronica could feel how very hard he was as he pushed himself against her, and she snaked her hand inside his boxers and ran it along his length.

"Dammit, Veronica," he said, breathing hard. "Do you have any idea how much I'm trying to keep some control right now?"

But it had been too long, too many years, and she couldn't bear to wait any longer.

"I don't care, Logan, I want you now. I need you _now_."

Veronica took his hand and pulled it between her legs so that he could feel how wet she was, how desperate for him.

"These have to go," Logan said, using both hands to pull her sleep shorts off her body. She tugged at the waistband of his boxers, pushing them over his hips to his knees, and he kicked them down his legs and onto the bed. And then they both groaned in relief at how utterly and absolutely perfect it felt to be pressed up against one another, length to length, without even a wisp of fabric between them.

It felt like a homecoming, after years of separation, years of living in exile.

Logan lay back, pulling Veronica on top of him, and their kisses became wilder, more frenzied. She shifted her lower body until she was straddling him, her breaths coming in short little pants and uneven gasps. Then her eyes closed in sheer bliss as she slid down his length and he was inside her at last.

Veronica paused for a moment, savoring the feel of him. This was Logan. Logan! And she was with him again, he was inside her again, and suddenly, powerfully, instinct took over, and she was moving frantically. She braced herself on either side of his body, and threw back her head in near-ecstasy, as she forcefully pushed herself up and down the hard length buried within her.

Logan was beside himself with love, and joy, and sheer overwhelming excitement. He was with Veronica again and she was spread across him wantonly. He grabbed hold of her, couldn't stop himself from pushing inside her with every downward stroke of her hips. His head shifted on the pillow, and he knew he was very, very close.

And then seemingly without conscious thought, Logan lifted his body, shifting them both so that Veronica lay beneath him. He grabbed her knees, pulling her legs even further apart, and thrust into her.

Once, twice, three times.

"Oh, god, Logan, oh, god," he heard her cry, just before he felt her clench around him and cry out. Only then did Logan allow himself the same pleasure, groaning loudly as he climaxed. When his body stilled at last, he pulled out of her and threw himself down beside her, waiting for his breathing to slow and his brain to begin to function again.

She turned to him with a shy smile, and he smiled in return and picked up her left hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he kissed the sparkling platinum band that he'd earlier that night placed on her finger for the second time.

"I love you, Veronica." His voice was low and deliberate. "You'll never know how much."

She turned her hand to lightly brush his cheek with her palm.

"I love you, too," she said softly. "And it doesn't scare me anymore, Logan. The only thing that scares me is the thought of ever being apart from you again."

"Then rest easy," he said, stroking her hair and gazing at her with all the love in his heart. "Because I'm never gonna let that happen."

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It wasn't surprising that Veronica and Logan slept in the next morning. They'd drifted off shortly after their first joyful reunion, but when Veronica woke a couple of hours later, her happy heart rejoicing when she remembered that she was in Logan's bed, she couldn't seem to stop herself from reaching over to graze her fingers delicately along his arm and across his chest.

Logan stirred awake, and it took him only an instant to recall just whose fingers were skimming lightly along his skin. He grabbed Veronica's wrist and hauled her atop his body, pulling her head down and kissing her breathless.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," she began to apologize when she could speak again.

"Yeah, I know," he said, running his hands down her back and over her ass. "But since I _am_ up, and I do mean, you know, _up_ ," he smirked, "I'm thinking I'm gonna require more than just a verbal apology."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, looking down at him and grinning. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Logan flipped them over and began kissing his way down her body. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he looked up at her and whispered, "What do you say I just show you?"

Veronica's voice was breathy when she answered, "I think that works for me."

It was a quite a while before they got back to sleep after that.

So it was past ten when Veronica finally awoke to the sun streaming through the bedroom windows, the rain having disappeared along with her gray mood. When she turned over, she saw that she was alone in the bed.

She knew it was ridiculous, but tendrils of panic nevertheless began to curl in her gut. She jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen, where she found Logan pulling food out of the refrigerator, clad only in his boxer shorts.

"Hey," he said smiling, then caught the look on her face, the look she tried to hide.

Logan pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing. Everything is good," she said, hugging him tightly.

Logan pulled away to look her in the eye. "Then what was that look I just saw on your face?" he asked, unconvinced.

 _Shit,_ she thought. _He knows me too damn well._

"It's nothing, really." She tried to equivocate, sighed when she saw that it wasn't working.

"Don't you ever give up?" she asked him, just the teeniest bit annoyed.

Logan's lips twisted in amusement, and his brow quirked as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. Waited for the irony to catch up with her.

Veronica had to laugh at his expression, acknowledging how crazy it was to ask that question of the man who'd spent twelve years waiting for her to commit to him.

"Not so much," he eventually answered her question. "Now what the hell is wrong?"

Veronica knew when she was beaten. "It's just...I woke up, and you weren't there, and I thought... It was stupid. I know it was stupid." She hated having to admit her fears to him.

Logan looked down at her with such tenderness that her insides melted.

"Veronica," he said, never breaking eye contact, "you know in here," he brushed his hand along the side of her head, "and you know in here," he tapped his finger over her heart, "that I have waited all these years to be with you, and I am never, ever going to leave you."

"Yeah, I know," she said, sighing.

"And I understand that it's in your nature to be afraid, to think I might somehow...let you down. But I won't, Veronica. I promise. You're all I've ever wanted."

With both hands, Logan gently cupped Veronica's face, kissing her forehead.

"It's just...I love you a lot, you know," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Likewise," he said, bending down to kiss her lips.

Veronica tried to squirm away. "Yuck," she said, making a face. "I haven't even brushed my teeth."

Logan just laughed. "And I would care about that _why_?" he asked, nevertheless hugging her instead.

As she peeked around his body, she suddenly noticed all the food he'd laid on the counter, and the pans he'd pulled out from the cupboards. The tray sitting on the big kitchen table.

"What's all this?" she asked. It took a few seconds for her agile mind to put it together, and then she looked at him inquiringly. "Were you going to bring me breakfast in bed?"

Logan flushed. "Well...I was gonna _try_ ," he admitted.

Veronica smiled and checked to make sure there was nothing actually cooking. Then she grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward the bedroom wing.

"We can have breakfast a little later," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Right now, I'd rather have Logan in bed."

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It was lunchtime before they finally ate, sitting at the kitchen table, still in their night clothes. But the bacon and eggs and pancakes tasted just as good. Maybe even better.

They never talked about it, about how they would spend that day. They just curled up together in the big easy chair. They didn't want to play games, or watch movies, or even, really, talk. But they couldn't seem to stop touching each other, and while sometimes the gentle touches and soft kisses led to passionate embraces and other, more carnal, pleasures, often they did not. Very often, those simple touches were quite enough.

Sometime late in the afternoon, Veronica declared that she was both disgusting and hungry and headed off to shower. Logan tried to talk her into joining him in the massive shower off the master bedroom, but Veronica swatted him playfully and said she was looking to get cleaner, not dirtier, and took herself off to the guest bath instead.

They grilled steaks for dinner and made an enormous salad, eating both on the patio as they watched the waves lap quietly at the sandy shore. After dinner, they curled up together again, this time on one of the teakwood lounge chairs, and shared the rest of a bottle of Pinot Noir. They both drifted off to the sounds of the surf, and only woke when the nighttime chill covered their arms and legs in goosebumps.

They left all the dirty dishes in the sink and retired to the master suite. They'd done nothing all day, not really, but they still felt exhausted and fell asleep immediately, curled up in each other for a third time that day, more at peace than they'd been in years.


	23. Part II - Chapter 18

Part II - Chapter 18

It wasn't like they were trying to keep it a secret. Not really. Veronica, especially, knew that her dad was worried about her and that she owed it to Keith to let him know that she and Logan had reconciled.

They had simply wanted to carve out a tiny window of privacy, a time that would be just for _them_ , before they had to let the world know that they had found their way back to one another. Time for them to enjoy just being together. To savor their oneness. Time to figure out how it was all going to work.

But that plan was shot to hell while they were enjoying a leisurely breakfast on that Thursday morning.

"I suppose I should at least call my dad and tell him," Veronica was saying as she spooned fresh fruit onto the crepes she'd managed to produce that morning with great satisfaction.

"Tell him what?" Logan teased, smiling at her.

"Hmm," she said, fingering her chin. "Let me see. That he hasn't seen me all week because you've had me tied up in the basement?" she suggested.

Logan cocked his head. "That might play," he said thoughtfully, "except I'm pretty sure that Keith knows this house _has_ no basement."

"Bummer," she said, grinning. "What about alien invaders keeping me away? Think he might go for that?"

Logan frowned. "How about you just tell him that you've finally come to your senses after years of befuddlement?"

"What? Like he'd ever believe something as crazy as that!"

He was leaning over to kiss away her grin when there was a sudden knock at the door. Before Logan could even think about moving, they heard a key in the lock, and then the door opened and Dick Casablancas walked into the house.

"Logan! Dude!" He boomed as he moved across the threshold. "Don't you answer your phone any more? I've been trying to call you for days..."

Dick stopped short. "Ronnie!" he said. "Never expected to find you here."

His eyes narrowed as he studied them. "And I'm pretty sure those are sleeping duds."

Dick's eyes brightened suddenly as a new thought forced its way into his head. "So does this mean that you two are..." He waggled his fingers between them, opting for sign language in lieu of knowing how to specifically label their relationship. When that brought smiles from them both, Dick bounded over to scoop them into a three-way hug.

"So Ronnie finally removed her head from her ass, huh?" Dick was all smiles until he considered exactly how he'd phrased that last thought. "Uh, no offense, Ronnie," he added with a hopeful expression.

Logan smirked and Veronica raised her eyes heavenward before she conceded. "None taken," she said drily.

"Wait till I tell Mac," Dick said, pulling out his phone excitedly.

"We haven't actually told anyone about this...development yet, Dick. So maybe you could keep it to yourself for a while," Logan said.

Dick looked at him, puzzled. "It's not exactly junior year in high school, bro," he said. "Everyone knows about you and Ronnie. Not like that party your...uh...Aaron threw for you," he added. "Remember that?" Dick grinned nostalgically.

"You mean the party where you referred to me as a 'skank', Dick?" Veronica asked, her expression saying more clearly than words could have that he must be an idiot for even bringing it up.

Logan grinned evilly at the trapped look on Dick's face.

"Um, uh...if I have never specifically apologized for that, uh, _faux pas_ , Ronnie," Dick said formally, "please let me do that now."

Veronica waited a beat.

"Your _faux pas_ ," she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. "I suppose that's...one way of expressing it."

Before Dick could react, Veronica took advantage of his discomposure to shift gears. "What's going on with you and Mac?" she asked.

Veronica was hoping to catch Dick off-guard with her lightning-fast change of subject. And if it had been a Dick who was using, and might possibly hurt, one of her best friends, that may well have been an effective strategy. But as soon as he heard Mac's name, Dick's face softened visibly.

"I don't know what the hell she sees in me," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "Every time she calls, I think she's gonna plead temporary insanity or some shit like that and tell me to fuck off. But so far..." he shrugged, "she hasn't."

Veronica nodded. "Okay, Dick," she said. "I get it. You like Mac. But just so you know, I've got her back, so if you pull any crap..."

"Veronica," he began, and she wasn't sure whether she was more shocked by the sincerity of his tone, or his use of her actual name. "If Mac breaks up with me, it won't really matter what the fuck you do to me, because the worst thing will already have happened."

Veronica's jaw dropped. She hadn't expected that at all.

"I guess you can call Mac if you want," she said finally, yielding. "Just let me talk to her, too."

Dick grinned. "Thanks for giving me a good excuse to call," he said, pulling out his phone and pressing speed dial.

"Hey, Mackie," he said as soon as she answered. "You'll never guess who's standing next to me in Logan's kitchen wearing nothing but her skivvies!"

Logan burst out laughing as Veronica sputtered, "Give me that phone, Dick!"

"Mac?" she said, grabbing the phone.

"Veronica!" Mac answered in shock. "You're...at Logan's?"

"I am," Veronica said, and she couldn't keep the smile out of her voice.

"Does this mean...?" Mac left it hanging, afraid to even ask the question.

"Yup," Veronica said, smiling into the phone, happy to be able to share her news with one of her best friends. "Logan and I...we're still married and I guess we're gonna stay that way."

Logan snagged the phone from Veronica and wrapped his arm around her. "No guessing, Mac," he declared. "We're staying married."

"I'm so happy for you both," Mac said. "So that means I'll see you this weekend then."

"Oh, you're coming down this weekend?" he asked Mac.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Dude?" Dick asked in one ear, while on the phone Mac was saying, "You haven't forgotten the party's this Saturday, have you?"

And behind him, Logan heard a perplexed, "What's going on?" from Veronica.

"Shit!" Logan said suddenly, thrusting the phone at Dick. "Talk to your girl," he said.

"I forgot all about it, Veronica," he said, pulling her aside. "Saturday is Wallace's party."

"Wallace is having a party? Um, okay. And...Mac is coming all the way from San Francisco just for Wallace's party?" Veronica was confused. "Well...that's...nice of her."

Logan looked at her oddly. "When was the last time you talked to Wallace?" he asked.

"I guess...the ball. I've kind of been...ducking his calls."

Logan blew out a breath. "Well, you may have missed something here, Veronica. The party isn't being given _by_ Wallace, its being given _for_ Wallace. And Emily."

Logan raised his eyebrows in a _now have you got it?_ look, and the penny suddenly dropped.

"Wallace and Emily are engaged!" she said, smiling happily. "That's probably why he's been trying to call me."

"Well done, Mars," he said. "Maybe you should rethink your vocation."

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After Dick left, promising solemnly to keep his lip zipped, Veronica tried to call Wallace, but he wasn't answering his phone, and Veronica had to content herself with leaving him a message.

"Should I mention the engagement, do you think?" she asked Logan. "Tell him that I know?"

Logan thought that over. "Why don't we leave it up to fate?" he said. "Don't say anything about it in your message. If you guys manage to connect before Saturday, let him have the fun of telling you. If you don't talk before then, he can be surprised along with everyone else when we show up at his party."

"Okay," Veronica agreed, grinning. "Good plan. I like the idea of surprising everyone. Except, of course, for Dad," she added, picking up her phone again and pressing a different speed dial.

"Veronica." Keith's voice was wary. These days, no matter what he said to his daughter, it might turn out to be the wrong thing.

"Hi, Dad," she said. "Sorry about the...cryptic messages. I hope you haven't been worried about me." Keith could hear the wince in her voice at that last statement.

"Should I have been worried, Veronica?" he asked. "You sound...more like yourself, but..."

"Dad," she interrupted, needing to set his mind at ease. "I've got something to tell you. Something good." She looked up at Logan standing there beside her and her voice softened. "Something...great."

"Are you still at Logan's, honey, because I'm pretty sure you just told me," Keith said, and she could hear his relief.

Veronica laughed. "That is _so_ not fair, Dad," she said. "How can I ever give you any news when my PI father always knows what I'm gonna say before it's out of my mouth!"

"Sorry, Veronica," Keith said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "You can't expect to hide anything from these keen investigative skills. Do I need to remind you again about my 98% score on the PI exam?"

"No, Dad," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "Besides, it must be ready to fall apart from all the times you've shown me already."

"And are you happy, Veronica?" Keith asked, shifting to a more serious tone. "My skills never helped me figure out the answer to that question."

Veronica paused, trying to find the words to explain to her father just how happy she actually was. But they wouldn't come, and she suddenly found herself unable to talk around the lump in her throat. She thrust the phone at Logan.

Logan squeezed her shoulder and took up the conversation. "Hi, Keith," he said. "Veronica had to, uh, run."

"Logan," Keith said. "Am I right in thinking that you've got your wife back?"

Logan laughed. "I hadn't really thought about it like that," he said, "but, yeah, you're right. And I'm pretty sure she's gonna stay this time," he added, smiling down at her.

"I hope you know I'm happy for you both," Keith said.

There was an infinitesimal pause before Logan answered. "I...hoped you would be, Keith," he said finally, huffing a laugh. "I was pretty sure you weren't too happy about it the first time around."

Keith chuckled. "Let's just say I had...reservations, Logan. But they were based on the guy you used to be. The guy who smashed my living room lamp and couldn't control his anger. But I know you're not that guy anymore."

Logan sighed. "I'd like to think I've left that part of me behind," he said, "but I have to work at it. If you only knew how many times I wanted to punch Garcia's lights out."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Keith said. "And besides, there were a few times I'd have enjoyed that myself," he added with a laugh.

Veronica had been listening curiously to Logan's end of their conversation.

"What's he saying?" she whispered to Logan. "Let me talk to him again."

Logan shook his head and laughed, handing her the phone.

"Dad, I'm, uh, back. What were you saying to Logan?" Veronica waited impatiently for his response.

"Nothing important, honey."

Veronica frowned as it occurred to her for the first time that her husband and her father might have the occasional conversation that she wouldn't be privy to. Then she slapped herself mentally. _That's a_ good _thing, Veronica,_ she reminded herself.

Besides, she had other fish to fry. "Look, Dad," she said, "don't say anything to anyone about...Logan and me. He told me about Wallace and Emily, so we'll just tell everyone at the party. The party," she added, "where I expect I'll be seeing you with Alicia."

Her voice had taken on a teasing tone, and it was clear she expected a response.

"Okay, honey," Keith said, for the moment ignoring her innuendo. "If that's the way you want it. But thanks for letting the old man know what's going on. Oh, and tell Logan I'll see him this afternoon."

"This afternoon? What...?" she started to ask, but before Veronica could finish her sentence, he'd hung up.

So she directed her question elsewhere.

"Why will you see my dad this afternoon, Logan?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Oh. That," Logan said, frowning. "You remember I told you earlier in the week that I had some meetings I shouldn't miss?" he asked.

"I do," she said, "but what do they have to do with Dad?" Veronica had a sudden thought. "You haven't...hired him, have you? Because I could definitely get you the friends and family rate if you have..."

Logan laughed and pulled her into a quick embrace. "I love you, my curious wife," he said with a grin, kissing the tip of her nose. "It's nothing like that, Veronica. I promise. Keith is just...helping me with a little project I've started."

Logan had wanted to keep his involvement on the down low, but he recognized defeat when he saw Veronica's arms fold across her body, and her foot start tapping on the floor. Then he gave himself a mental shake. _Why would I ever want to keep this from my wife?_

"It's just...well, it occurred to me when we were at the ball that I didn't know of any organizations here in Neptune that help the homeless. Other than maybe providing the occasional meal, I mean. And...I don't know...that seemed like an oversight. So I called the County Supervisor when I got back, and I, uh, kind of volunteered to head up a committee to look into it."

Logan shrugged, trying to minimize his involvement. "Keith had offered to help, so I asked him to be on the committee. We're having our first meeting this afternoon."

Veronica was more than a little surprised. "But...but _why_ , Logan? What made you decide to do this?"

Logan shrugged. His reasons were so nebulous, and he wondered if he'd be able to explain why it just felt like the right thing to do.

"Hell, Veronica, I've lived in this town most of my life. Wouldn't you say it's about time I gave the other people who live here something besides fodder for the rumor mills and gossip rags?" he said.

"I don't think you need to prove anything to people who choose to believe all the lies that have been written about you." Veronica was indignant. "Anyone who really knows you knows what a caring person you are."

Logan smiled at her. "It's nice to know that my wife thinks I'm a decent person," he said. "And I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone, except maybe to myself."

Veronica nodded. No one understood better than she did about proving something to yourself.

"But why the homeless?" she asked curiously. "What made you decide to get involved... _there_?"

Veronica had just finished telling him what a decent guy he was, so Logan really hated having to remind her what a jackass he _used_ to be.

"You can't have forgotten one of the more notorious episodes from my misspent youth, Veronica," he said ruefully. "It was prominently featured on TMZ, among other places. I figured maybe it was time to...I don't know...right the wrong, I guess."

"Are you talking about...the bum fights?" she hazarded. It was the only thing that seemed to fit.

"Yep," he said. "One of my last forays into idiocy before you kissed me and turned me back into a real live human being."

Veronica's mouth opened in astonishment. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

Logan smiled suddenly, as he looked down at this woman who apparently still had no idea what she meant to him.

"I was in a pretty bad place for a long time after Lilly died, Veronica," he said earnestly. "It's taken me years to figure out that it wasn't just her death, although...that was bad enough. But when she died...I lost my entire support system. Hell, I was just a kid. I'd never even heard of a 'support system'. All I knew was that I was miserable and angry, and it never seemed to get any better. And then...Aaron...well, in hindsight, I guess it's not hard to figure out why his...episodes of rage became more frequent."

"Oh, god, Logan," Veronica said, her heart aching for the boy he used to be. "I should have understood...tried to help you."

"What the hell are you talking about, Veronica? You didn't owe me anything. I was an complete ass to you for more than a year. And besides," he continued, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug, "in spite of everything I'd said to you, everything I'd done to make your life a living hell, you _did_ help me. When my mother...died, I knew you were the only person I could turn to, and _god_ , was it hard to ask for your help."

Logan pulled back to look her in the eye. "Why _did_ you help me, Veronica?" he asked. "You didn't even give me a hard time about it."

She shrugged. "Because you needed me. And because we used to be friends."

"And is that why you kissed me?" he said, asking the question he'd wanted an answer to for years. "Because we used to be friends? I'll never in my life forget how I felt when you kissed me like that. I couldn't have stopped what happened next if I'd tried. And then...it was like you were everything I'd been waiting for without even knowing it."

"It was an impulse, Logan. I'm not sure I...really understood it myself." Veronica smiled wistfully. "And then we were suddenly kissing for real, and it was...surprising and scary...and thrilling. That kiss turned everything in my life upside down and inside out."

Her face softened as she remembered 17-year-old Veronica and how unsettled she'd been by that spontaneous moment of passion.

"But...how come you've never told me any of this before?" she asked him.

"I didn't know that I ever really needed to say it, Veronica," Logan said with a shrug. "You've always known how I felt about you. God knows I've never made any secret of it. But if you want to know when it happened, that was the moment when I knew there was no going back."

Veronica said nothing for a few moments as she considered everything he'd just told her. Then she smiled as she reached up, pulled his head down, and pressed her lips softly to his. Logan responded immediately, and soon had her pushed up against the counter, as the simple kiss turned fiery and erotic and all-consuming.

They broke apart, out of breath, and Logan scooped her up in his arms.

"I have no objection to christening the kitchen," he said, carrying Veronica down the hall to the master bedroom, "except...you know...we never put up any curtains."

Veronica peppered his face with kisses. "First thing we need to buy," she whispered, as he kicked the door shut behind him.

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On Friday morning, Logan had another meeting, a business one this time. Veronica took advantage of his absence to put in a call to Len Rosetti.

"Hey, Mars. How's my favorite prosecutor girl doing? Ready to come back and put some more bad guys away?"

Veronica laughed. "Oh, sure," she said, "now I'm your favorite prosecutor girl. What about when I asked for more investigators for the Patterson case? I seem to remember something about having to 'share resources' with the other DDAs."

Rosetti chuckled at her response, at the same time marveling at the change in Veronica. She sounded like her old self. _Correction,_ he thought. _She sounds better than her old self._

"So...have you called to tell me you'll see me bright and early Monday morning?"

"Actually," she said, "I haven't. I...need to take another week, Len. I'm sorry to have to ask but...it can't be helped."

"And is this a _good_ 'can't be helped' or a _bad_ one?" Rosetti asked, more than a little puzzled by the change in his most promising DDA.

"Good," she said immediately. "Very good."

Len sighed. "Okay, Veronica," he said. "You've got a lot of vacation time accrued, so take what you need."

"Thanks, boss," she said. "I'll see you soon."

Len paused. "What are you not telling me, Veronica?" he asked.

Veronica laughed. "Bye, Len," she said, hanging up.

When Logan returned from his meeting, he was surprised but happy to hear that she wouldn't be leaving on Sunday after all.

"Are you sure you can stay away so long, Veronica?" was all he asked. "I know how much your job...your career...means to you."

"I'm sure," she said, smiling in happy anticipation of an additional seven days there at the beach house with Logan.

"That's great, bobcat," he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "What do you say we take a little time to celebrate," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Veronica laughed. "You know," she said, "if you're trying to seduce me, making silly faces isn't the way to go about it."

"Are you sure about that?" Logan said, picking her up and gliding his lips across hers in a kiss so soft it was almost a caress.

Soon, her kisses became urgent, and she wrapped her legs around him while Logan began to spin them in slow circles toward the bedroom.

Some time later as they lay curled up together, Logan said, "Much as I'd like to just stay in bed with you all day, I think we should get dressed and take your car back to the rental place. It's already been sitting here for a week and you don't really need it."

Veronica moaned her protest. "But I'm so comfy," she said, batting her lashes at him in a ridiculous manner. "Can't we do it tomorrow, before the party? What time _is_ the party?" she asked lazily.

"Hmmm," Logan said. "Let me check the invitation."

"The... _what?_ " Veronica said, suddenly sitting bolt upright. "Is this like a... _formal_ engagement party? With printed invitations?"

"Well...yeah," Logan said, wondering what she was getting at.

"I...didn't get an invitation," she said, her brow puckering.

Logan sighed, wrapping an arm around her. "You hadn't exactly been accessible, Veronica. Not really...in touch."

"No," she said, nodding. "I suppose not." Then she grinned. "So...all the more reason everyone will be surprised to see me."

"Very true," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"So where's the party?" Veronica asked.

"It's at the Grand," he said. "Emily's friends were going to have it at someplace less, uh, fancy, but Dick and I talked them into using a room at the Grand."

"Talked them into it by offering to pay for it, perhaps?" Veronica's mouth twisted in a knowing smirk.

Logan shrugged. "The two of us split the cost, and her friends took care of the planning. Including the invitations. So let me grab it," he added, moving to his desk to pick up the small white placard.

"Cocktails at seven, dinner at eight," he announced, answering her original question.

"And have you bought a gift?" she asked.

"Gift?" Logan's face twisted into a expression that clearly asked the question, _This is a gift giving occasion?_

"Come on, lover boy," Veronica said with a laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him up off the bed. "We've got a lot to do this afternoon."

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Veronica hadn't been inside the Neptune Grand since her senior year at Hearst when Logan had still been occupying the penthouse suite. She'd been admiring the changes to the decor as they walked down the hallway, so she was slightly behind Logan as they entered the party room.

"Logan!" A leggy brunette practically accosted him as he cleared the doorway. "You finally made it! I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to come pick you up myself," she said coyly, looping her arm through his.

Logan turned helplessly to Veronica, who'd just then reached his side.

"This is, uh, Shelley," he said to her. "Friend of Emily's."

"It's _Sherry_ ," the brunette corrected, trying, and failing, to hide her irritation.

"Who's this, Logan?" the woman asked as Veronica smiled at her and placed her hand on Logan's other arm. The one that Shelley-Sherry wasn't clinging to like a kudzu vine.

"This is Veronica...my wife," Logan said happily, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of his wife's head.

"Your... _wife?_ " Shelley-Sherry screeched indignantly, as though it were a personal affront. "You never told me...that is...no one ever said that you had...a wife. You certainly weren't wearing a ring..."

Veronica lifted Logan's left arm and pushed it toward the other woman, and he twisted his hand around to better display his wedding ring. This maneuver seemed to have no effect on the brunette, who continued to cling to Logan's right arm.

Veronica grinned as she wrapped her arm around Logan's waist, and none too gently pulled his arm out from the brunette's vise-like grip.

"Yup," she said, beaming up at him. "Been married almost six years now, right, honey?"

"That's right, sugarpuss," Logan answered with a grin, enjoying Veronica's little display of possessiveness.

Veronica gave herself a reaction check. Amused? Definitely. Annoyed with the woman? Hell, yeah! And maybe, she admitted, just a tiny bit jealous. But...angry with Logan? _Not at all._

She was considering whether she might actually have managed to drag herself, kicking and screaming, into adulthood when her husband suddenly pulled her into the nearby coat room.

"What's going on, Logan?" she said, startled.

He looked at her warily and said quietly, "I only met that Shelley person one time, Veronica, I swear."

"Sherry," she corrected automatically.

"Well, _whatever_ the fuck her name is, Dick and I met with her and some other friend of Emily's just one time, right here at the Grand, to plan this party. It was for like a half hour and I don't think I said more than ten words to her the whole time."

Veronica looked at him in astonishment. "Logan, I don't care about her," she said. "I only care about you and me."

Logan stared at her for just a moment and then a smile spread across his face.

"Thank you, Veronica," he said bending down to kiss her. "That's the best present you've ever given me."

"What's that?" she asked, puzzled.

"Your trust," he said happily.

They had barely stepped back into the party room when Veronica was grabbed by a pair of familiar strong arms.

"Veronica!" Wallace said. "I can't believe you're here. I've been tryna get in touch with you for weeks."

"I know," she said, smiling. "I'm so sorry, Wallace. I was having a hard time, but I wish I'd answered your calls so you could have told me the good news yourself. I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah, and maybe if you'd answered my calls I could have stopped worryin' about _you_ ," Wallace responded. "But I'm just glad to see you. And...you said you were havin' a hard time, so since you're here with Logan, does that mean...?"

Veronica raised her left hand to display the wedding ring he'd never seen before.

"Damn, girl!" he said with a grin, eyeing the ring. "Is that the original?"

"Yep, that's the one I saw six years ago," said a voice behind Veronica, and suddenly she was pulled into another hug, this time by a pair of arms that were softer and slighter than Wallace's.

"Thank god you came to your senses," Mac whispered in her ear.

Veronica laughed, glancing over at Dick and Wallace as they clapped Logan on the back. "Apparently just in time for you to lose yours," she said to Mac.

Mac just shook her head and pulled her arm through Veronica's. "I think maybe we'll have to agree to disagree on that one," she said, and they both laughed.

Emily appeared on her other side then, and Veronica offered her congratulations while Emily extended an apology.

"I'm sorry about Sherry," she said. "I tried to steer her away from Logan, but I didn't want to go into detail about your private business. I guess I wasn't direct enough."

Her face showed her distress.

"Don't worry about it," Veronica told her, chuckling. "Logan's had years of practice in fending off unwanted attention from pushy females. Even if I weren't here..."

"But you are," Emily said, as the three women moved towards one of the the large round tables set up at the other end of the room. "And I'm glad the two of you worked it out. I've known Logan for a while now, but he's never really seemed happy. Until now."

They had reached the middle of the room when Veronica heard another voice behind her.

"So my daughter finally decides to show her face," Keith said.

She whirled around, smiling, and he pulled her into a hug.

"Oh, Dad," she said, and felt the familiar comfort of his arms wrapped around her. For just a moment, Veronica didn't move, enjoying the feelings of love and security that were always present in his embrace.

"That looks like a happy face I'm seeing," Keith said, pulling back to study her.

"There's that 98% investigative prowess again. Can't put anything over on you," she said, smiling.

"Hello, Veronica," Alicia said, coming up behind Keith and looping her arm through his.

"Alicia," Veronica said, grabbing her hand. "It's wonderful to see you."

"And I'm happy to see how much better you look than the last time I saw you," Alicia said with a smile.

Veronica shook her head in wonder at how swiftly - and happily - her life had changed. _Was that really only a week ago?_

Keith's brow wrinkled as he asked, "What's this? When did you see Veronica?"

"Never mind," Alicia said. "You don't have to know everything."

Both women laughed at the consternation on Keith Mars's face.

"I'm pretty sure I do," he began to protest, but any further objections were lost when Logan approached and suggested they take their seats.

When they reached their table, they found two more familiar faces.

"Hey, Blondie," Weevil said, rising and pulling her into a quick hug. "I see you and your boy finally got your act together."

"Eli!" Marisol said, rolling her eyes in exasperation over her husband's ever-present tactlessness. "Eli's _abuela_ will be so happy when I tell her the two of you are together again," she said with a smile.

"None of it would have been possible without her help," Logan said. "I hope she knows that."

Marisol nodded. "Eli did tell her," she said, "but I know she'll be glad to hear that you agree."

There were still two empty seats at their table and dinner was just about to be served when Leo D'Amato and Lisa Chang arrived, full of apologies.

"Accident on the 5," Leo said in explanation, as they ran to say hello to Wallace and Emily before taking their places. They were in such a rush, in fact, that it wasn't until they were both seated that they looked across the table and noticed Veronica sitting there next to Logan.

"Well, I'll be damned," Leo said with a grin.

"Eeeeee!" Lisa said, and her high-pitched squeal of delight could be heard all over the room,

"You know, this surprise thing was even more fun than I thought it would be," Veronica said to Logan, smiling cheerfully.

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They were sitting on the couch watching a movie one evening in the middle of Veronica's second week at the beach house when she announced suddenly, "I'm going to call Len tomorrow and tell him I'm quitting."

"What!" Logan said, picking up the remote and flipping off the TV. "Veronica, no! You can't do that. You love that job. And I know how important your career is to you. I already told you, I have no problem moving to San Francisco. You know damn well I can run my business from anywhere."

He paused for a breath, and she quirked a brow and said, "Are you done now?"

"For the moment," he said, his face set.

Veronica shook her head at him. "It's not like I'm planning on turning into a _hausfrau_ or something, Logan. Marin County isn't the only place in California with a DA's Office. I think they could probably use an experienced - not to mention excellent - prosecutor in Balboa County or even San Diego. I'm sure I can get a good recommendation from Len."

"But...why, Veronica?" She'd barely gotten the last word out of her mouth before Logan jumped in with his question. "Why would you want to interrupt your career when you're doing so well right where you are?"

"Because I don't want to live _there_ anymore," she said, searching his face as she tried to understand why the hell he would object. "I want to live _here_. In this house. With you."

Logan pulled her into his arms and rubbed his cheek against her silky hair.

"We can be happy anywhere," he said determinedly, "as long as we're together. And we can still keep this house. I'll buy a condo in San Francisco, and we can come back here as often as you like. Every weekend, if you want."

Veronica sighed into his chest. "I don't understand, Logan. I really thought you'd be happy about this," she said, bewildered by his response. "I thought you'd like the idea of the two of us living here. I-I love this house. I've never been so happy anywhere in my life."

Logan pulled back to give her a teasing smile. "Did you ever think that might be because of the company," he said, "rather than the house?"

Veronica grinned at him. "Well, you _are_ the main attraction, of course. There's no doubt about that. But this house," she looked around the room almost...affectionately. "It just seems like we belong here, Logan. I think we can make it a real home...and I know you want that."

She sighed and wondered what was really going on.

"This doesn't make sense to me, Logan, so...do you want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

Logan tugged at his hair as he tried to find a way to explain his misgivings.

"I just...I don't want you to have regrets," he said finally, and it was almost like the words were pulled out of him. "I don't want you to wake up ten years from now, or twenty, or when the fuck ever, and think about how you gave up a great career to live here with me. I couldn't stand it if that happened, Veronica. Not after all we've been through."

As she listened, Veronica's eyes widened in surprise. She shook her head slightly, settled herself onto his lap, and wrapped her arms around him. Logan embraced her tightly, as though afraid she might suddenly disappear.

"Talk about regrets," she said softly. "I have so many regrets about you, about us, about everything that I almost let slip away in the last six, ten, twelve years..."

Veronica stopped, sighed, and began again.

"I have enough regrets to last me a lifetime, Logan, and I'm determined not to have any more. I've been thinking about this for more than a week and...I think it's the right choice for me."

Logan nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. "It's your career, Veronica, and I know that ultimately it's your decision. But could you maybe do one thing for me? Could you at least go back to work on Monday? Just to see...I don't know...how it feels, I guess. I'll come back to the city with you and while you're...figuring it out...I can look around for a condo for us. Just in case you decide to stay after all."

Veronica was quiet for a moment. Finally she nodded. "All right," she said. "That's a reasonable request. You just want to be sure that this is really what I want to do. And I guess it couldn't hurt for me to defer my decision for a few days. And," she conceded, "I probably owe it to Len to talk to him in person, anyway."

"Thank you," Logan said, kissing her on the forehead. "I just want you to be absolutely sure that this is what you want." He huffed a little laugh. "And in case you think I'm being selfless," he added, "you should know that I won't be happy unless you're happy. And I want to be happy, Veronica. Happy with you."

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The following Sunday, after the most peaceful two weeks of their lives, Logan and Veronica flew back to San Francisco. Veronica told him he didn't have go with her, but when he insisted, saying he wasn't letting her out of his sight now that he finally had her back, she was relieved. After the past two weeks, she was more sure than ever that she belonged with Logan and it would have been too painful to be separated again so soon.

Veronica wasn't surprised to find that after spending time at the roomy beach house, her apartment felt small and cramped. Or that it didn't quite feel like home anymore. They unpacked quickly, and Veronica cleared out a little space for Logan in her drawers and closet. The apartment was really only big enough for one, though, and she knew that she'd be moving out of it soon no matter what decision she reached about her job.

Logan went out to get them some dinner and when he returned he found her in the semi-darkness of her bedroom, staring out the window.

"What are you doing in here, Veronica?" he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping her in his arms.

"Just thinking," she answered. "About the last time you were in this place. You and Dad telling me about...Matthew. Me wondering how it was I found myself engaged to a man I didn't love. Had never loved."

Veronica paused as her thoughts coalesced.

"How did you do it, Logan? How did you wait for me for all those years while I fought and ran and refused to face what was right in front of me. It scares me when I think...what if you hadn't waited while I figured it all out?"

Logan sighed and pulled her even closer, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He finally huffed a little laugh.

"I don't think I knew I was waiting, Veronica," he said. "I tried not to think about you because it was too...painful. But when I found out we were still married, it seemed like, I don't know, some kind of sign. Like it was meant to be. That you were finally going to come back to me. That it really was...inevitable."

He turned her in his arms and bent to kiss her. "And I was right," he said, slowly moving his lips across hers.

"Oh, god," she breathed, pressing herself closer and finding, as always, that she couldn't seem to get close enough.

Dinner was somewhat delayed. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

When Veronica returned to the DA's Office the next morning, she found that she was looking at her work environment with a critical eye. Evaluating it in a way she never had before. It was a good place to work, she decided, a good place for her to have honed her skills as a prosecutor. She liked her boss and she liked her job and she'd been happy there.

Too bad she couldn't pick it up and move it back to Neptune.

Len wanted to assign her a new case immediately, and Veronica felt guilty when she asked him to delay a day or two while she cleaned up what was left on her desk.

"I'm glad to have you back in the rotation, Mars," he said. "We were spread a little thin without you."

She thought she'd give herself a week to make the decision, but it took only three days. On Wednesday night, Veronica came home from work and told Logan that she wanted to go home. To Neptune.

"Are you sure you've taken enough time, Veronica?" he asked, a worried frown on his face.

"I miss the house, Logan, and the garden," she said. "And I loved being able to drop in and see Dad any time I wanted. And Wallace. I want to get to know Alicia better because I think she might become a permanent part of my life."

"You can still do every one of those things from here," Logan said. "We can find the time to do all that stuff."

Veronica smiled at him fondly, and reached up to smooth away the frown lines from his face.

"I don't want to have to 'find the time', Logan," she explained quietly. "I'm greedy and I want it all. A life with the man I love, a place to live that's a real home, a career I enjoy, family and friends that are part of my everyday life. And I'm determined to make it all happen."

"Veronica-"

"Logan." She cut him off. "I shut myself away from everything and everyone for a long time. It was...stupid. And pretty pointless. I'm ready to rejoin the world. So unless you tell me that you don't want to live with me in our beach house, then I'd say the decision is made."

"I can't say that. You know I can't. There's nothing I want more," he admitted.

"Okay then," she said. "Let's get to it." She paused. "There's just one other thing."

Logan gave her a puzzled look.

Veronica sighed. It was the last thing she wanted to think about. It was dead and buried and she'd have much preferred to keep it that way. Some things, though, you just didn't have a choice about.

"I can't leave without telling Len about Matthew, Logan. I wish I could just forget about it but I can't."

Logan nodded his head in silent agreement. "Just be careful," he reminded her. "We didn't go through all that just so you could put yourself in danger again.

"I will," she said with a smile. "That whole 'being reckless about my personal safety' thing is so ten years ago."

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Veronica knocked on Len's door as soon as she arrived at work the next day.

"So, Mars," he said when she entered. "You finally ready to get down to work?"

She smiled apologetically. "Not...exactly," she said. "In fact...I'm afraid I'm giving you my notice, Len. I can leave immediately or work for a few more weeks. Whichever you prefer."

He looked just as surprised as she'd figured he would.

"What the hell, Mars! Why do you want to leave? You tired of working for peanuts? Get an offer from one of the big law firms?"

Veronica laughed. "Nope," she said. "I'm planning to stay in the prosecuting business. Just not here. I...want to go home."

Len was silent for a moment and when he finally spoke it was in that smooth speculative tone he usually saved for his cross-examinations. Veronica decided it was a good thing she had nothing to hide.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that ring on your finger, would it? I didn't want to ask, figured you'd tell me if you wanted. But it sure looks a helluva lot like a wedding ring."

Veronica unconsciously twisted her ring when she told him, "That's because...that's what it is."

Rosetti frowned. "Not...Garcia?" he asked.

That brought another short laugh from Veronica. "Hardly," she said. "In fact...as it turns out..."

She paused, sighing. "It's...kind of a long story, Len, but one you need to hear."

Rosetti waved her into the chair across from him.

"I gotta say I'm intrigued now, Mars. You're married to someone I've never heard of but for some reason I need to hear all about it. Who is this husband of yours, anyway?"

Veronica smiled. "Logan Echolls," she said, taking a seat. "I'm married to Logan Echolls."

Len Rosetti leaned back in his chair and a look of surprise crossed his face.

"Turns out I've maybe heard of your husband after all," he said.

"I thought you might have," Veronica said, nodding. "But it's not the man I married that I need to talk to you about, Len. It's the man I _didn't_ marry."

It took Veronica nearly a half hour to explain the situation to her boss. She told the story pretty much as it had unfolded, sliding quickly over her marriage to Logan and their subsequent non-divorce. That brought a couple of raised eyebrows from Len, but Veronica could see that he was still puzzling over how her personal life might concern him.

She briefly explained that Logan had recognized an old classmate, omitting the parts played by Mac and Weevil, and then moved on to the heart of the matter: suspicions about the older Latino man, Garcia's _padrino_ , followed by confirmation by San Diego Police that he was a bigwig in a Mexican drug cartel.

Rosetti had been leaning comfortably back in his chair but this piece of information brought his head forward in a hurry.

"What? Are you saying that Matthew Garcia is in with the cartels?"

Veronica sighed, remembering how hard it had been for her to accept.

"Logan asked my dad to investigate - you remember that he's a PI, right? - and he found out that the cartel paid for Matthew's education all the way through law school."

Rosetti was stunned. "But...you have no evidence of any actual criminal activity on Garcia's part?" he asked.

Veronica shook her head. "No," she said. "But...I thought you'd want to know, what with Maggie working for him."

Len Rosetti seemed to consider it all carefully, then nodded his head.

"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked finally.

Veronica hesitated, but she and Logan had already decided that not only was it unnecessary for Rosetti to learn about the plot against Veronica, it might also be dangerous. For all of them.

"No," she shook her head, "except...Matthew doesn't know that I know, Len. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"That I can promise you, Mars. I need to tell Maggie, but I can say I found out through an unrelated investigation."

Rosetti paused abruptly, as though he'd just recalled something.

"Now that I think of it, though," he said, his eyes wandering in thought, "maybe it won't be that much of a shock. She made a vague reference a couple of weeks ago to some new clients that she was...concerned about."

Rosetti looked earnestly at Veronica. "Thanks for telling me this," he said. "You didn't have to and I...appreciate that you took the trouble."

Veronica nodded. "I thought you should know," she said.

Len gave her a small smile. "So...all of that, the business with Garcia, brought you and Echolls back together? Because I take it that's why you're leaving."

Veronica shrugged and smiled. "That...and a few other things. But it's just time for me to go home, Len. That's where I want to be."

Rosetti nodded. "You're from Neptune, right?" he said. "You know, I have some contacts in the DA's Office in San Diego. Why don't I see if they're in the market for a new DDA? One who's not too green. Although you never seemed that green," he added with a grin. "It was like you'd been cross-examining people your whole life."

Veronica laughed. "You're not the first to say that," she said. "I'd be really grateful if you could even get me an interview with the San Diego DA, Len. I like being a prosecutor."

"I'll see what I can do. And, Mars," Rosetti said, standing and extending his hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you."

Veronica stood and shook his hand. "And you," she said sincerely.

In the end, Len Rosetti requested that Veronica stay on only until she could finish up any lingering paperwork she might still have on her desk, which she assured him she would be able to do by the end of the week. He also expressed an interest in meeting her husband, so Logan came by on Friday afternoon to help her clear out her personal belongings.

The office staff surprised her with a cake with "Good Luck" written in frosting across the top. She licked her lips in anticipation when she saw it, and hoped it was chocolate. She noticed the other women in the office surreptitiously ogling Logan, but Veronica knew for certain that she'd left her trust issues behind when she found that she was far more interested in cutting herself a second piece of cake.

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It took the two of them more than a week to clear out Veronica's apartment, notify the landlord of her departure, and arrange to have her belongings shipped back to Neptune.

They spent a lot of that week with Mac, because Veronica knew that Mac's proximity was the one thing that she was truly going to miss when she left the Bay Area. On their last night in the city, Logan insisted that she and Mac should have an evening to themselves, so the two of them took themselves off to _La Dolce Vita_ for a farewell dinner.

"Remember the last time we were here, Mac?" Veronica mused as they ate their manicotti and tomato risotto. "The lunch in the middle of that crazy week just before the ball?"

"You mean when you spent the entire meal trying to convince me that you and Logan could never be together? _That_ lunch?" Mac grinned at Veronica.

Veronica smiled ruefully. "It took me a while to figure it all out, but in the end you were right."

"Of course I was right," Mac said smugly. "You should always listen to me."

Veronica laughed and shook her head. "I'm going to miss you a lot, Mac," she told her.

"Veronica, you're moving back to our hometown, not the other side of the world," she reminded her. "I'm sure I'll be visiting Neptune now and then."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be visiting Neptune, too," Veronica agreed with a sly grin. "I just don't know that you'll have time to see us while you're there. What with all the _other_ attractions, I mean."

Mac blushed. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she claimed with a flustered smile.

As the two of them sat there smiling at each other, Veronica felt a sudden lump in her throat.

"Mac," she said, impulsively reaching over and grabbing her friend's hand. "I don't know what I would have done without you all these years, but especially...especially that first year. Those first few months."

Mac was surprised. Not by the sentiment, but by the fact that Veronica was expressing it so openly. She'd always been so closed off emotionally. Mac shrugged inwardly. Maybe they both were a little, if she were really being honest with herself.

"We're friends, Veronica," she said finally. "I'll always be there if you need me, whether you're in San Francisco or Neptune. Or Timbuktu."

"Likewise," Veronica assured her with a nod, then pulled her hand away to pick up the dessert menu that was tucked against the wall.

"I can't decide whether to have a cannoli or the tiramisu," she said quickly, before she could become too embarrassed by her uncharacteristic display of emotion.

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They considered renting a car and driving back to Neptune, but Logan and Veronica finally decided to fly. There was nothing that Veronica felt she couldn't do without for the few days it would take the moving company to ship her belongings to her new home.

Logan had put a lot of his business on hold again while they made a return trip to San Francisco, so as soon as they returned to Neptune he became busy with his new project. Veronica didn't mind. She had plenty of projects of her own, right there at the beach house, and she began nesting almost immediately.

She baked dozens of cookies, and searched through innumerable cookbooks to find interesting recipes that she and Logan could make together whenever he had the time. She hung curtains on the kitchen windows (privacy at last!) and, when they finally arrived, spent hours finding the perfect spot for many of her favorite possessions, integrating her personal style with Logan's so that it would truly become _their_  home.

But Veronica knew that this was just an interlude. Knew that she'd eventually become restless and want to use her brain for pursuits beyond cookie baking and proper _feng shui_. She'd just begun to wonder if it wasn't time to begin circulating her resumé when Len Rosetti called in early August to tell her that the San Diego District Attorney would definitely be in touch, most probably with a job offer.

Veronica thought happily that all the pieces of her life were finally beginning to make sense.

That evening, as they were curled up together in the easy chair, Veronica told Logan about Len's call, and that a job with the San Diego DA was a distinct possibility.

Logan hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

"So do you have everything your little heart desires now, Veronica?" he asked. "The perfect job is on the horizon, and of course you already had the perfect...well... _me_. And all that comes with _me_."

Logan smirked and cleared his throat, waggled his brows and waved his hands up and down his body. All to indicate that he was quite the catch. Veronica groaned and rolled her eyes, and swatted him on the arm.

But she knew he was only teasing her, and she answered in the same vein. Lightly. But she also answered truthfully.

"Almost everything," she said smiling. "But maybe not...quite."

Logan cocked his head and quirked a brow, and she could see a question hovering on his lips, but Veronica, as usual, knew exactly how to distract him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to let all my faithful readers know that the next chapter will be the last one.


	24. Part II - Chapter 19

Part II - Chapter 19

August

In early August, the call finally came from the San Diego DA's Office asking Veronica to come in for an interview. But when she arrived, it appeared that the interview was a mere formality. One of the DDAs was quitting to open a criminal law practice, leaving rather a large hole in the professional staff. And it seemed that Len Rosetti must have sung her praises rather vigorously, because Veronica was asked to begin work in early September.

Veronica breathed a sigh of relief. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Furniture arrangement and cookie baking had begun to lose their appeal as full-time activities.

"Well, thank god," Logan said when she told him. "I was getting tired of having you freeload off me, Mars. Time to start chipping in for all that manicotti you keep demanding, not to mention those tubs of Rocky Road. And let's not forget the cookie ingredients," he added, snagging two out of the jar she'd just filled the day before.

"Very amusing, Logan," Veronica said, trying her best to look peeved. "You'd better enjoy them while they last because I won't have much time for cookie-baking pretty soon."

Logan laughed at her admonition, grabbing at her waist and swinging her around.

"Congratulations!" he said. "I knew they'd never be able to resist you."

"Oh, yeah?" she said, smiling. "And how did you know that?"

"Because I've never been able to resist you," he said cheekily, holding her tighter and kissing her soundly.

"But this does remind me of something I've been thinking about lately," Logan added, setting her back on her feet. "I'd like to take a trip. We've never actually had a honeymoon, so I think we should take one before you start working and can't get the time off."

"Did you have anyplace in particular in mind?" Veronica asked, not quite sure if she was in favor of the idea, but thinking perhaps she might be persuaded.

"Yeah," he said. "I'd like to go to Hawaii. Dick and I went for the surfing a couple of years ago and we stayed at this place on the north shore less than an hour from Honolulu. It was...beautiful."

Veronica frowned. "You want to take me to someplace you vacationed with Dick?" she asked drily.

Logan smiled down at her. "If I tell you that the moment I saw the place I thought about you, wished that by some miracle I could be there with you instead, would that make a difference? Because it seems like maybe I could get my miracle," he added wistfully.

"Yeah, that would make a difference," she said, hugging him tightly. "When did you want to go?"

Logan was delighted. "Let me call and see what they have," he said, pulling out his phone.

When he'd gone with Dick, they hadn't really cared about their accommodations, but Logan knew the hotel had a number of private guest cottages and that's what he wanted for his and Veronica's much-delayed honeymoon. One was available for the last week of the month, and Logan booked it immediately.

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"So what else is there to do in this place besides surfing?" Veronica asked as they finished unpacking their suitcases. They'd just arrived in Hawaii, and it had been a long flight from San Diego, but Veronica hated living out of a suitcase, even for a day.

Logan cocked his head at the bed and waggled his brows suggestively.

Veronica pressed her lips together. "I was really asking about things that we can't actually do at home, Logan," she said, trying not to smile.

He grinned and said, "I'll teach you how to play golf, if you want. Or we could go snorkeling or scuba diving. But those activities are _strenuous,_ Veronica. I think we should concentrate on resting. I know I'd like to try _resting_ with you in every room in this cottage."

"You know, I think that's the very same itinerary you suggested the last time we tried to take a honeymoon," she scolded, shaking her head. "Do you never change your lines? Maybe send them out for an occasional update?"

Logan grabbed her waist and spun her around.

"Why should I make a change when all the old lines still seem to work on you," he said, nuzzling her neck. "And you're the only one I care about seducing," he whispered in her ear.

They had intended to take a swim before dinner, but those plans changed unexpectedly.

They did play golf that week, and tried both scuba diving and snorkeling. They hiked and swam and even visited the Polynesian Cultural Center, but somehow they ended up spending an awful lot of their time _resting_.

Veronica wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was being away from their usual surroundings, or the sound of the surf pounding on the sand only a few feet outside their bedroom, but the attractions of 'resting' with Logan seemed to rise to a whole new level in their Hawaiian guest cottage. She accused him of slipping love potions into her food, but Logan maintained with his usual smirk that just being married to him was enough of an aphrodisiac.

That week, she was inclined to agree.

They'd been _resting_ for most of an afternoon, and were lying naked and sated on the bed when Veronica had a sudden thought.

"Madison Sinclair," she said, grinning smugly.

"What the hell, Veronica? I just finished rocking your world, and all you can say is... _that_ name?"

"I've actually been thinking about her a lot lately," Veronica remarked.

"Thinking about _Madison_? Why the _hell_ would you be doing that?"

"Because I love irony, and the irony in this situation is so very delicious. The woman hates me and yet she did me the greatest favor I can imagine."

"Yeah?" he said, his brow wrinkling. "How do you figure that?"

"Just look at the chain of events," she said, all lawyer. "If Madison hadn't told...what was her name again?"

"Sabrina," Logan supplied a little warily.

"That's right. Sabrina. If Madison hadn't told Sabrina that you and I were married...which, let's face it, she couldn't have actually _known_ , she could only have _guessed_...you would never have found out that the divorce hadn't been filed. And we wouldn't be here today."

Logan let that thought percolate for a moment. "I'm sure she only told her to be a bitch and cause trouble," he said bluntly. He hadn't really considered Madison's motives before. In truth, he preferred never to think of Madison Sinclair at all.

"Of course she did," Veronica said, grinning. "That's what makes it all the more fabulous. But it doesn't matter, Logan, because I only care about the results. And today, when I'm so happy, I've decided to finally do something about it. I'm going to let her know how much I...appreciate...her assistance."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Logan rolled over to face her and grinned hugely as he contemplated the devious ways in which his wife's mind worked.

"Hmmm," she said, "I'll have to think about it."

Their route to the dining room took them past the hotel gift shop, and that evening Veronica asked Logan to wait while she ran in to make a purchase. When they returned to the room after dinner, he watched while she sat at the desk writing a message on the largest, most garish postcard he'd ever seen. When he could stand it no longer, he looked over her shoulder and frowned in confusion.

"I thought you told me you were keeping the name 'Mars'." he said.

"I am," Veronica said, smirking, "but _she_ doesn't have to know that."

It's well-known that postcards are notoriously slow in reaching their destinations, so it wasn't surprising that the plane that brought Logan and Veronica back from their Hawaiian sojourn touched down in San Diego just about the same time that their postcard was delivered to the Sinclair residence in the exclusive 09er district of Neptune. When Madison Sinclair, the intended recipient, returned from yet another day at her despised dead-end job, she found the card in the mailbox.

Madison glanced at it only long enough to determine that it was addressed to her and not her parents. She deferred actually reading it until she reached her room, torn between stark envy that one of her friends was able to afford a Hawaiian vacation, and surprise that whoever it was had bothered to send her a postcard.

She grabbed some wine from her mini-fridge and sat down on the bed to see who'd been so kind as to think of her. Madison wasn't nearly so cheerful after she read the message.

_"Madison. We've been enjoying our second honeymoon at this lovely resort and we wanted to let you know how grateful we are for your timely interference in our lives. Without your assistance, we're not sure we'd ever have found our way back to each other. With sincerest gratitude, Logan and Veronica Echolls."_

Madison had to read it three times to make sure she understood the message. _That slut has her claws into Logan Echolls again?_ _And somehow_...I _made it happen?_

_What the fuck?_

And then she remembered the party at Dick's house all those months ago, and that bitch Logan had brought as his date. _Well,_ she thought, _at least I was right about her getting kicked to the curb. But how the hell did that...?_

Madison polished off her glass of wine and poured herself another, then grabbed the card, angrily crushing it in her palm, and tossed it into the wastebasket.

No need to have that around as a reminder of everything she didn't have, she thought, downing the wine in two large gulps, and pouring herself a third glass. But as she twirled the glass by its stem and thought more about the postcard, she thought she might keep it after all. She hardly ever got any mail.

Madison pulled the card out of the basket and tried her best to flatten it out, but cardstock isn't very pliable and besides, Madison was at the bottom of her third glass of wine. She placed the card on the nightstand, poured herself yet another glass, and lay back on her bed. Her alcohol-addled brain was wondering how she could turn the situation to her advantage when she passed out, tipping the glass over and spilling the wine all over herself and her bedclothes.

Several hours later, Madison Sinclair awoke with a massive hangover, saw the card on the bedside table, and tore it into a dozen pieces before slipping between her wine-soaked sheets and drifting off to sleep.

September

In early September, Veronica began work at the San Diego DA's Office, and right from the beginning she felt comfortable. Logan insisted on buying her a car, since neither his BMW convertible, nor his latest Range Rover would work well for commuting. As always, Veronica wanted him to spend as little as possible, but Logan wasn't having it.

"I want you safe, Veronica," he said, and she soon found herself the proud owner of a brand new Audi. She tried her best to hide it from Logan, but Veronica loved everything about her new car. Even the price tag, which, compared to Logan's cars, was pretty reasonable.

"I'm expecting great things from you, Mars," her new boss told her on her first day, having gotten a heads up from Len Rosetti that he was inheriting Len's best young DDA.

Veronica laughed, but she hadn't been there a week before her intellect and work ethic became apparent to everyone. What was also obvious, besides the quick mind and the hard work, though, was that Veronica Mars worked best if left to her own devices. So she was. Veronica told Logan she was sure she'd found a new home for her prosecutorial skills.

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Who the hell knew, she thought for the hundredth time as she drove south on the 5, that it was almost impossible to rent a car if you were under the age of twenty-five? When she'd had her twenty-first birthday the month before, she'd been so sure that all age-related obstacles were behind her. But then Evie Garcia had never before undertaken a solo road trip, particularly a 500-mile one.

She'd acted on impulse, but the trip just seemed...necessary. It'd been a few months now, and the events of the previous May had begun to take on the hazy quality of a dream. She knew in her head that one of her father's oldest friends had tried to have someone murdered. And that she herself had been instrumental in preventing that murder. But it might as well not have happened, because outwardly, it seemed everything was still the same. Everything except Evie herself.

She knew she needed to see them all again, to remind herself of exactly what it was that had changed her so profoundly. So the trip had become necessary, and this might be her last opportunity to make it. At least for a while.

She didn't really like to drive. Evie was a privileged city girl, used to taxis and car services, with the occasional foray into public transportation. But for this journey, driving would be more practical than flying. She didn't want to have to deal with all her luggage more than once. And she knew she'd have to rent a car when she finally got to Neptune anyway.

But that crap about her age, well, she hadn't really expected that, and it had squeezed her already tight timeframe. She'd left the day before, but she'd wasted a lot of time arguing with the friendly folks at Hertz and Avis, before finding a rental company less...particular...about age. Consequently, it had been well after noon before she'd finally gotten on the road. When dusk had fallen, she'd given in to fatigue and stopped for the night at the Apple Farm Inn in San Luis Obispo, having fond memories of both the city and the inn from the one and only family vacation of her childhood.

She'd left early the next morning, determined to get past LA before rush hour, and now here it was, not quite 3 p.m., and she was only a few miles north of Neptune. Evie checked the screen on the GPS where she'd entered the address of Mars Investigations. Her stomach clenched with nerves when she saw that she would reach her destination in less than twenty minutes.

 _Cut the crap_ , she told herself. _I didn't drive 500 miles to chicken out now._

xxxxxxxx

Keith had been back in his office for only a few minutes when there was a knock on the outer door. He'd had a stakeout the night before, then meetings all morning, followed by a business lunch. He was tired. He'd promised himself that if nothing came up by four, he'd close the office early and grab a nap before he took Alicia to dinner. So he sighed when he heard the knock, knowing that his chances for a nap were kaput. But he couldn't afford to turn down business.

"Come in," he called from his private office, straightening his tie and clearing his desk. Veronica had finally convinced him that clients liked an orderly office - and a tidy investigator.

He heard the door open.

"Keith?" Her voice was tentative as she called his name.

Keith was startled, sure that he recognized the voice, but equally certain he must be wrong. He nevertheless bounded into the reception area on the off-chance that he was right.

"I don't believe it!" he said, grinning, when he saw her standing there. "What are you doing here, Evie? Why didn't you let me know you were coming?"

Evie's smile was as tentative as her voice. She shrugged. She wasn't quite sure why she hadn't let Keith, or any of them, know she was coming. She'd driven 500 miles, and she was only just then realizing that she might have found that none of them were available. But that hadn't happened. Here was Keith, pulling her into a hug. Her stomach finally unclenched and her hesitant smile became a grin.

"I wanted to surprise you," she said, recovering her natural aplomb.

"Well, you succeeded," he said. "So...you're not in London any longer, then. Not living there, I mean." Keith made it a statement.

"No," she answered. "Well...I was for a while. But then something came up, so now--"

"Stop right there!" Keith interrupted her. "Alicia will kill me if she doesn't hear everything from the beginning."

Keith pulled out his phone and pressed a number.

"You and Alicia?" Evie said with a grin. "You're together? I thought that was just for the...the operation."

Keith's checks turned a pale shade of pink.

"Well, that was one of the good things that came out of all that," he said, breaking off when his call was answered.

"Alicia!" he said. "You'll never guess who just showed up at my office! What would you say to starting our evening a little early?"

There was a pause before Evie heard Keith chuckle and say, "You know what? I think we'll just surprise you. I'll pick you up in," he glanced at his watch, "fifteen minutes. Is Wallace around?" he asked.

Another pause, and then, "Emily's parents. Okay. Well, I guess we can't interrupt that. See you in a few," he said, hanging up.

"Emily's parents?" Evie asked. "So Wallace and Emily...?"

"Yep," Keith said. "Wedding's next spring."

"Wow!" Evie's eyes widened. "All kinds of stuff has happened in the last few months."

Keith grinned, knowing there were some other surprises in store for their visitor, as he pressed another number on his phone.

"Veronica?" he said. "Do you have any plans for tonight? Never mind. If you do, break 'em!"

Evie could hear laughter on the other end of the line.

Keith continued. "Meet me in the lounge at The Grand as soon as you can...No, I'm not going to tell you, my curious daughter."

Keith chuckled then. "Yes," he said. "Of course I meant both of you."

When he finally hung up, Evie asked excitedly, "Veronica's here in Neptune? And you said both of them, so does that mean...?"

Keith shook his head and grabbed her by the elbow, propelling her toward the door.

"All in good time, Evie," he said. "All in good time."

xxxxxxxx

By the time Veronica and Logan reached the lounge at The Grand more than an hour later, Veronica was consumed with curiosity.

"Do you think Dad and Alicia...?" she asked Logan excitedly.

"I think that since we're here, we might just as well stop speculating. If we wait another twenty seconds, we can find out for sure," Logan said, with a wry smile.

Veronica was never one to hide the fact that she was disgruntled. "You're no fun," she said, frowning.

"That's definitely not what you said this morning," he said quietly, bending down to make sure his comment reached her ears alone.

"Stop that, Logan," she said, swatting him on the arm. "We're meeting my dad and..."

Veronica stopped, shocked into silence when she saw who was sitting at the table with her dad and Alicia.

And then Logan saw her, too. "Holy shit!" he said. "It's Evie."

His long legs had him at the table in two strides, and he had Evie out of her chair and into a hug before the girl knew what was happening. By the time she'd also hugged Veronica and they were all seated, the observant Evie had a frown on her face.

"Are those wedding rings I see?" she asked. "I thought I gave very specific instructions that I was to be invited to the wedding."

Veronica and Logan glanced at each other.

"Uh, there wasn't actually a wedding," Logan said, his brow puckering as he tried to think how to explain it to her.

"No wedding?" she said, puzzled. "What? Did you just have a quickie at city hall or something?"

Veronica laughed. "That's pretty much exactly what we had," Veronica said. "Only it wasn't this summer, it was six years ago."

"But...but you were _divorced_ ," Evie said, a startled expression on her face.

"Not...exactly," Logan said, grinning.

By the time the details of the mysterious non-divorce and Veronica's recent relocation to Neptune had been explained to an agog Evie, they'd moved from the lounge into the dining room.

"So enough about what's been happening here," Alicia said after they'd given the server their orders. "I want to know what made you come to Neptune now, Evie, after all these months."

"I just needed to see you all again," Evie said. "I...haven't been exactly the same person since...everything happened."

She told them about moving back to London and almost immediately recognizing that a life of constant shallow socializing no longer appealed to her. How she struggled to find something that she wanted to do, but nothing felt right. She'd kept shifting back and forth between her parents, unsure of her next step. She didn't want to stay in London, but neither did she want to move back to San Francisco with her father.

"It was harder and harder to...pretend that I didn't know about...the cartel," she said, shaking her head. "Daddy has actually been nicer to me than I can ever remember. But I knew I couldn't stay there. I knew that if I had to see _Padrino_ for more than a few seconds..."

She stopped, shrugged.

"I knew he'd eventually figure out that...I knew. I just couldn't be around it any more," she said softly.

She smiled suddenly. "But then something really great happened. This friend of my mother's came to visit while I was in London and she offered me a job in her design studio in New York. She's even letting me stay with her, since I could never afford the rents in Manhattan. The job is just as a receptionist and all-around gofer, but she said I had the right...um...look to work there."

"And so you do, Evie," Alicia said, gazing at the girl's effortless chic. "Are you interested in design?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I love clothes, but I have no talent for designing them. But maybe...the business end. How everything works. That interests me."

She nodded her head as if she'd just then discovered the truth of that statement.

Veronica raised her glass. "To Evie's new career," she said, smiling. "And when you become a fashion mogul, we'll be able to say we knew you when."

"And don't forget, Evie," Logan said, raising his own glass, "if you ever want to start a business in the fashion world, let me know. I haven't had a fashion adventure yet, so you could be the first."

"Right," Veronica said, laughing. "Usually you have fashion _misadventures_."

"Hey!" Logan said, huffing at the insult to his sartorial elegance. "I think I look pretty good these days!"

Veronica sighed. "That's true," she said. "At least you no longer wear orange pants."

"When are you leaving for New York?" Keith asked Evie, as he tried to choke back his laughter.

"Tonight. I'm going to the airport directly from here," Evie said sadly. "I wish I could have stayed longer."

"Well, this will not be your last visit to Neptune," Keith told her sternly.

"No," she said, looking around at their smiling faces, "I guess it won't."

Evie couldn't help being amused by the irony. She'd spent a lot of time resenting the fact that her father was going to marry Veronica and expected Evie to treat her like family. Well, Matthew hadn't married Veronica, but Evie had made Veronica - had made all of them - family, after all.

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The Chang/D'Amato wedding was scheduled for the third Saturday of the month, and Veronica and Logan were making a weekend of it. On Friday morning, they drove to San Diego in the Range Rover, which had enough room for all their suitcases as well as Logan's golf clubs. Since Veronica had to work that day, he'd arranged to play a round of golf with Dick. Mac would be flying in that evening.

While the weather in San Diego was nearly always perfect, Veronica was still happy for the bride and groom when she woke on Saturday to a cloudless blue sky. She and Logan got to the church early and made their way down the aisle, slipping into a pew halfway to the altar. As they watched the other guests file in and take their seats, Logan turned to her suddenly with a serious expression on his face.

"Do you think you missed out?" he asked Veronica abruptly. "I mean, I know at the time, and under the circumstances, you didn't want a real wedding. But...that was then. Do you, I don't know, think we should have another wedding or something?"

His voice was anxious and Veronica could see the concern on his face, the worry that even if she didn't regret marrying him, she might come to regret _how_ she'd married him. She took his hand in hers, and despite the very public setting she brought it to her cheek and kissed his palm.

"I don't need another wedding, Logan," she said softly so that only he could hear, "I have a lot of regrets, but _none_ of them have to do with marrying you. I don't care about this stuff. And besides, can you really imagine me in some kind of puffy wedding gown with a long veil?" She grinned at him as the picture drifted through her head. "I'd be...ridiculous!"

Logan leaned forward and said softly, "You'd be beautiful, Veronica. The most beautiful bride ever." He brushed his lips softly across hers.

Veronica couldn't figure out why she felt tears sting her eyes suddenly, but she supposed people often cried at weddings.

"I love you," she said quietly.

"Me, too, bobcat," he said. "Me, too."

They were still holding hands when they stood and watched as the bride walked nervously down the aisle. And were clutching each other just as tightly when a smiling Leo and Lisa D'Amato came back up the aisle a half hour later.

The reception was held at a local restaurant, and when they took their assigned seats, Logan and Veronica weren't surprised to see the same old faces. The Navarros. Wallace and Emily. Mac and Dick. Her dad and Alicia.

Veronica was starting to think of them as "the gang." She was amazed when she realized that she hadn't known Emily or Marisol - or Lisa Chang D'Amato - at all before they came to her rescue in San Francisco. And many of the others she'd barely seen in years. But they'd come through for her and now they were like family. Veronica found herself thinking that she hadn't had this large a group of friends since she'd been an honorary 09er sophomore year in high school. And as an added bonus, she actually _liked_ these people.

Lisa was just old-fashioned enough to choose to keep a lot of the classic wedding traditions. When the time came for her to throw the bouquet, there weren't many takers in their little group. Emily insisted that she was as good as married, while Alicia declared she was a little old for the bridal bouquet routine.

Dick was pushing a reluctant Mac onto the floor, when the bouquet came sailing their way and fell with a plop into her arms. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned while she sputtered and blushed. Then Dick bent down and kissed Mac very soundly on the lips as everyone cheered.

Everyone, that is, except Veronica.

"Oh, god," she moaned, catching the byplay. "Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god."

"Don't hyperventilate, Mars," Logan said. _"Que sera sera."_

October

September was always a beautiful month in Neptune and this year had been no exception. Veronica and Logan had spent much of their free time working in the garden, filling it with a variety of plants to produce the maximum amount of color and scent. By the time October rolled around, there was only one section of the garden, a rather large space not far from the corner of the house, that had yet to be filled.

Veronica woke on the second Saturday in October and two things came to mind almost simultaneously. Her first thought was that a certain date was almost upon her again. It was a date that she had tried very hard to forget for each of the past six years, but which somehow, this year, didn't fill her with dread. And the second thought was that she knew exactly what they should do about that last corner of their garden.

Veronica jumped out of bed and ran out to the kitchen, eager to share her idea with Logan.

He was sitting on the patio when she found him. As often happened when he saw her suddenly, when his mind had been wandering and he'd forgotten for just one little moment, Logan's heart lurched and he was filled with overwhelming happiness. Even after all these months, it was sometimes hard for him to believe that she was here, that she was his, and that they were making a happy life together.

Logan understood that not every man was lucky enough to feel the way he did about his wife.

He could see immediately that Veronica had something she wanted to say. Her brilliant mind was always working, and she often woke with an idea or a plan that she wanted to share immediately. It was part of the charm and the excitement of being married to an extraordinary woman like Veronica Mars.

But this time he was determined that she was going to have to wait.

Logan jumped up and grabbed her as soon as she bounced through the patio door. He lifted her up, swung her around, and pressed her up against the side of the house while he kissed her thoroughly.

"What was that for?" she asked when she could catch her breath.

Logan smiled at her as he set her down onto the pavers.

"Couldn't help myself. Can't remember the last time I kissed you," he claimed.

" _I_ can," she said, laughing. "You did a pretty comprehensive job last night, and I seem to remember that those kisses were accompanied by some other very pleasant sensations."

"Very pleasant, you say? I could go for more very pleasant sensations right now," Logan said, smiling wickedly, as he grabbed her ass and pulled her against his already aroused body.

"Logan, will you stop!" Veronica swatted him on the arm and pushed him away. "I have something to tell you. I had a really great idea when I woke up this morning."

Logan groaned in disappointment. "All your ideas are great," he said. "But can't this one wait just a little while?"

"No, it can't," she said, taking his hand and dragging him back into the kitchen. "Let's have some breakfast and I'll tell you about it."

A short while later they were seated at the big table drinking coffee and eating enormous slices of French toast.

"So, go ahead," Logan said. "What's your idea?"

Veronica put down her fork and looked at him solemnly.

"It's about the garden," she explained. "By the corner of the house. I know what we should do there."

He nodded for her to continue.

"And it's also about...tomorrow," she continued. "Tomorrow is..."

Veronica paused and took a breath.

"Yeah, babe," Logan said softly, reaching over to stroke the side of her face with his thumb. "I know what October 9th is. It's the day we...lost her. Don't you think I've remembered that date every single year?"

"Well, I've tried to forget every year, Logan, and that was pretty stupid. I want to remember her because she was ours, and because, really, she brought us together, didn't she?" Veronica's eyes filled with tears as she searched his face.

"So I think we should do something...special. She's not here for us to love, so we should...remember how much we loved her even before she was born. And I know just how to do it."

"Okay," he said. "Listening."

Veronica took a deep breath. "I want to plant a tree in her memory in that bare corner by the side of the house," she said. "Something that will grow and...watch over us here. Something we can look at and remember her with joy instead of sadness."

Logan's eyes were wet as he leaned across the table to kiss his wife softly.

"Great idea," he said. "When do you want to do this?"

"Today we buy a tree," she said with determination. "Tomorrow we plant it."

The folks at the garden center where Veronica and Logan bought the jacaranda were surprised when they said they'd be planting the tree themselves. They were even more shocked when they delivered the tree to the very expensive beach house in the 09er district. Most 09ers didn't plant their own trees. Most 09ers didn't do their own _anything_.

Veronica found detailed planting instructions online, although the garden center also provided them with information. They soaked the tree overnight, and the next day Logan followed to the letter the instructions for digging the hole, preparing the soil, and planting the tree.

They hadn't quite realized how heavy the thing would be, and it took all their combined strength (90/10 Logan/Veronica) to lift it into the hole they'd prepared. Veronica checked the instructions again to ensure that the berm the'd created around the base of the tree was to the proper dimension.

And finally it was done.

They were filthy and sweaty and it had taken them all morning, but they'd managed it. Veronica had been determined that they'd plant the tree themselves, and that they'd do it together. And that the damn thing would live. That was the most important thing.

"There's something else I want to do, too, Logan," she said, as they gazed with satisfaction at their newly-planted jacaranda.

"More planting?" he asked hesitantly, rolling his aching shoulders.

"No," she said, smiling at him sympathetically, "nothing like that. I want to have a party."

"Yeah?" he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Who did you want to invite to this party?"

"The whole gang," she said, as they'd taken to calling the group that had seemed to grow out their experiences in San Francisco. "And maybe...Cliff. Yep, I think Cliff should come, too,"

"Okay," Logan nodded. "And do I get to know why we're having this party?" he asked.

"Of course you do," she said. "It's because I'm tired of keeping secrets."

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The party was set for the following weekend and Veronica was delighted to find that all their friends could make it. Even Mac was flying down, although Veronica wasn't sure if it was their party that was the attraction or the prospect of having an excuse to see Dick.

Veronica was making salad and Logan seasoning meat when Cliff Mc Cormack arrived on the day of the party. He was the first to arrive, but that was by design rather than happenstance. Veronica couldn't remember ever before seeing him dressed in anything other than a suit. Today, he was wearing khakis and a polo shirt.

"The Echollses at home," Cliff said sardonically, when he walked in and saw them immersed in domesticity. "Are the photographers coming a little later to watch you toss salad and man the grill, kids?" he asked in his trademark smooth tones.

Logan laughed. "Let's hope there are no photographers," he said, grabbing a beer out of an enormous tub and tossing it to his guest. "Have a seat, Cliff. We'd like to talk to you."

Cliff's brows rose as he sat at the kitchen table and unscrewed the cap on his beer.

"I thought this was a party," he said, "and that my services were no longer required." He'd just that moment noticed that no other guests had arrived.

"There's no one else here yet, Cliff, because we asked you to come a little earlier than the others," Veronica said, and she chuckled as she noted the look of wariness that stole across his face.

"And we don't need your professional services, at least not today," Logan added.

"But there is something you want," Cliff said, sipping his beer and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Yeah," Logan said, extending his hand to Cliff. "We want to thank you."

It was the last thing the lawyer expected. He was uncharacteristically speechless as he took Logan's hand and shook it. When Veronica leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, Cliff blushed for probably the first time in several decades.

"I'm, uh, happy to be of service, but I'm not sure I know what this is about," he tried.

"Save it, Cliff," Veronica said. "We figured out a long time ago that you got me to come to Neptune under false pretenses." She grinned at him as Logan wrapped an arm around her.

Cliff shrugged matter-of-factly, and it was clear that he'd decided not to bother continuing with the charade.

"Well," he said smugly, "it was obviously one of my better ideas since it seems to have worked."

Veronica and Logan couldn't help but agree.

The others began to arrive soon after, and the hosts got busy again cooking and serving. It was when they'd finished their steaks and salads and had moved on to Veronica's cookies and Alicia's coffee cake that someone thought to ask about Evie Garcia.

"She surprised us with a visit a few weeks ago," Keith said. "She was on her way to New York. Got herself a job with a fashion designer. I've only had a short email since then, but she seems to like it a lot."

"I'm glad," Mac said sincerely. "She deserves to have good things happen to her. She was one brave girl."

"Amen to that," Veronica said. "I'll never be able to repay her. Or any of you," she added, glancing around the patio at all of them.

There were murmurs of disagreement, but they all quieted down when Veronica rose suddenly and cleared her throat.

"There's a reason why we invited you all here today," she said, raising her voice just slightly. "Besides your company, of course. And it wasn't just to thank you, although god knows I...we...could never thank you enough for what you did for us."

Veronica looked around at the little group of family and friends, now waiting, patient but puzzled, for her to continue.

"Some of you we've known for a long time," she said, "and others for only a few months, but you've all become very...important to us. And I...we need to tell you something."

Her voice began to waver and she looked at Logan uncertainly. He stood up and wrapped his arm around her, and took over where she'd left off.

"I know you've all heard about our marriage and how for years we thought we were divorced," he glanced over at Cliff who tipped his beer bottle at Logan, bringing a laugh from the group.

Logan smiled and continued. "But what we never did tell you was...how we happened to get married in the first place. Keith knows and Cliff, because they were a part of it all. And Mac, because she was there...at the end. And Alicia, because I chose to tell her about it a few months ago."

Logan took a deep breath and glanced at Alicia. She was smiling, but he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes.

"The thing is..." he began again, but Veronica interrupted him.

"I...think I need to tell it, Logan," she said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I'm the one who made it such a big secret."

Logan gave a brief nod as Veronica looked around at all their expectant faces. At Mac's sympathetic smile, at her father's encouraging glance. She sighed.

"I was pregnant," she said. "When I first found out, well...it was hard to accept that a giant monkey wrench had been thrown into all my grand plans of going to law school. But later, after I told Logan, when I saw how happy he was, I began to feel...differently. He convinced me to marry him and I told myself I was agreeing to it because of the baby. But that was a big, fat lie." She looked over at him affectionately. "I married Logan because I loved him."

She was coming to the hard part now. "I guess it must be pretty obvious what happened," she said slowly. "I had...a miscarriage and we...lost our baby girl. It happened while we were visiting Mac in San Francisco. And afterwards, I...I didn't react well. I couldn't deal with it so I ran away. From Logan, from my dad, from everything I loved. I couldn't bear to think about it." The tears were pooling in her eyes now and trembling on her lashes.

"Veronica..." Logan tried to interrupt, to take over the story for her.

"No, Logan, let me...I can finish," she said, taking a deep breath. "It took me a long time to stop feeling...guilty about it. It wasn't until Logan came back into my life that I even began to face it, and to just let myself feel the grief and sadness. And now...I just don't want it to be a secret anymore. It's something that happened to us, to Logan and me, and you're our family and friends and I just...I just wanted you to know about it."

Veronica turned her head to gaze at the corner of the house where the jacaranda tree was just barely visible from the patio. "Last weekend," she continued, "Logan and I planted that jacaranda tree in memory of the baby girl we never got a chance to meet. So in some way...she'll always be with us."

She looked around at the faces staring up at her in sympathy. "And I guess that's all," she finished, sitting down abruptly.

For a moment, they were all completely still and completely silent. Then everyone moved at once.

Dick got up quickly and threw his arms around Logan. "Dude," he said, but his voice was softer than usual. "That's harsh. No wonder you were such a mess when I got home. I thought it was just about Ronnie."

He turned to say something to Veronica, but she was busy hugging Wallace.

"I wish I'd been around when all this happened, Veronica," Wallace said.

She looked at him affectionately. "There was nothing you could have done, Wallace, and you had enough to deal with right then with your dad."

One by one they all expressed their sympathies, and by the time Alicia got to her, Veronica was wiping tears away from her eyes.

"I'm so proud of you, Veronica," Alicia said. "That was a really brave thing to do."

Veronica shook her head. "We need to put it behind us, Alicia. To have it be a sad chapter in our lives, but not the end of the story. We need new chapters. Happy chapters."

"And may you have them," Alicia said, hugging her tightly. "Lots of them."

xxxxxxxx

By the time everyone had left, Logan and Veronica were exhausted, wrung out both physically and emotionally.

"I think we should leave this all for tomorrow," Logan said, of the few things they'd yet to clean up. "We should just go to bed."

Veronica looked up at him. "I agree with the first part of that," she said. "Let's leave the mess. But let's not go to bed quite yet. Let's go out to the patio instead."

They climbed onto one of the teakwood loungers, Logan leaning against the back and Veronica sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. He wrapped her in his arms, and for a while, they simply sat and enjoyed the comfort of that embrace.

Then Veronica spoke.

"We've never talked about having another baby, Logan," she said quietly, and heard his sharp intake of breath.

He couldn't believe she wanted to talk about this now. Tonight. After the emotional wringer they'd put themselves through that afternoon. Logan told himself he should just tell her whatever the hell it was she wanted to hear, but he realized immediately that there were two problems with that approach. The first was that he had no idea what that was. No idea at all what she wanted him to say. And the second? They didn't lie to each other. And sure as hell not about stuff like this.

He sighed and hoped she'd be able to understand.

"I know we haven't," he acknowledged, nodding into her hair. "We haven't used...anything. Unless...you have. I thought, maybe, you just didn't want to tell me if you were on the pill or something, and I...couldn't figure out how to ask without...."

Logan sighed. "After what happened," he said, "I just...didn't want to bring it up. I didn't want you to think...to think I was, I don't know, pressuring you, I guess. One way or the other. I wanted it to be...up to you."

Logan stopped, afraid he'd said too much already. Afraid she might be upset with him.

"And this pressure that you didn't want to put on me, so you were saying nothing. Would that have been pressure to have a baby...or not to have one?"

"Veronica..."

"Logan, I...need to know."

Logan turned her around so that she was facing him.

"I don't know how you could even ask me that, Veronica," he said softly. "I'd love to have a family with you. You know that...or at least...I thought you did."

Veronica blew out a breath, nodded. "That's what I thought, but I just needed to hear you say it," she said. "I mean, I was pretty sure that's how you felt, but since I never asked, and you never said..."

"Well, now you can be sure," he said. "But I'd never try to...influence you about something like that. Whatever you want is okay with me."

Veronica was silent for a moment as she settled back into the cradle of Logan's legs. When she finally began to speak, her voice was soft, but firm.

"If you'd asked me -- if anyone had asked me -- when I was in high school or college if I wanted to have kids, I'd have said no way. I'd seen too many screwed up families, and after watching my own mother's lousy performance as a parent... Well, let's just say I was pretty sure that the motherhood gene had passed me by."

She paused, as if gathering herself.

"So when I got pregnant, at first I thought...I thought... _I'll just...get rid of i_ t." Veronica's breath hitched. _"I never wanted kids and I'd be a lousy mom anyway."_

Logan could feel her trembling slightly as she lay against his chest.

"But...I couldn't. Maybe...someone else could have done that, but I...just couldn't. But it still felt... _she_ still felt," she amended, her voice growing even fainter, "like a burden. Like the baby was getting in the way of my life."

Veronica cleared her throat and continued.

"But somehow, later on, when you and I were together...when I saw the sonogram and heard her heartbeat...when my body started changing and I could feel her inside me..."

She sighed then and turned to look at him.

"Everything was different. I _felt_ different. And I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, the motherhood gene hadn't skipped over me after all. I...l had started to love her so fiercely, and she hadn't even been born yet."

Veronica nestled into Logan's chest and he held her tightly as she continued.

"So when irony reared it's ugly head and gave me what I'd wanted..."

"Stop, Veronica," Logan said. "We've already been down this road..."

"No, I know," she said quickly. "I know it wasn't my fault, and if she'd lived, I'd have been a good mom. I'd have loved her..."

"We both would have loved her," he said.

She nodded. "Yes," she said.

Veronica was silent for another long moment and then she sighed.

"So...it's not like I've spent the past six years longing for a baby." She huffed a small laugh. "Or for anything else," she added. "I just didn't let myself want what I knew I couldn't have. What I thought I didn't deserve."

"That's not true," Logan protested immediately.

Veronica squeezed his hands and said, "I agree. I deserve. And _you_ deserve. We both deserve to be happy. And starting a family would make both of us happy."

She pulled herself up and twisted around to face him.

"So I think," she said with a little smile, "we should go see if we have."

Logan was silent, turning over in his mind exactly what she'd said, but somehow he couldn't seem to make sense of it.

"See if we have...what?" he asked hesitantly, frowning.

Veronica laughed. "I'm asking if you'd like to come into the bathroom with me so I can pee on a stick and see if we've started that family you want."

"What the hell, Veronica!" Logan sat bolt upright. "Are you telling me you might be _pregnan_ t?!"

Veronica jumped off the chair and grabbed his hand, pulling him up after her.

"I don't know," she said, "but there's only one way to find out."

xxxxxxxx

Three minutes had never seemed so long, Logan thought, as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, looking out of the corner of his eyes at Veronica perched on the toilet lid. She'd put the stick on the edge of the counter next to a kitchen timer, and by unspoken agreement they were silent as they looked everywhere but at the object that might change their lives.

With every passing second, Logan felt his heartbeat speed up. How had he not known how much he wanted another chance to be a father, he asked himself. But he supposed the answer was very much like Veronica's. No point in living your life longing for what you can't have. Even now, she might very well not be pregnant. But if she wasn't, at least he knew it was what she wanted, what they both wanted. Maybe the next time...

The buzzing of the timer startled Logan from his reverie, and his eyes flew to Veronica's. She picked up the stick from the counter, glancing at it almost furtively. But when she looked up at him with an immense smile on her face, he didn't even have to ask the question.

He picked her up and swung her around, and Logan was glad that their bathroom was big for an entirely different reason than usual. They were laughing as she clutched him tightly, raining kisses all over his face. And then suddenly they were crying as they slid to the floor. But they were tears of joy, and they didn't last long.

They were both exhausted as they slipped into bed at last, clinging to each other in their happiness.

Logan pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "I love you, Veronica," just before sleep overtook them both.

They were cuddled up together in their favorite chair the next afternoon when Logan finally brought it up. They had to talk about it, he knew, before it became the elephant in the room.

"It will be different this time, Veronica," he said softly. "Dr. Rivers said there was nothing to prevent you from having a healthy pregnancy."

"I know," she nodded her agreement. "Dr. Patel told me the same thing. We just have to have faith that it will turn out okay. And there's no reason to think otherwise."

Veronica made an appointment with Dr. Patel immediately, and Logan accompanied her. Because of her miscarriage, Veronica's pregnancy would be monitored very closely, but Dr. Patel reiterated what she'd said in the past.

"There's no reason why you can't carry this baby to term," she told Veronica after examining her.

Logan left the doctor's office somewhat reassured. But neither was he stupid. They both knew better than most that there were risks with any pregnancy, but their desire for the child overrode their innate wariness.

 _But at least we're prepared,_ he thought, _if something goes wrong. Not like the last time._

So they put their fears aside and threw themselves into prospective parenthood. The first time around, circumstances had kept them from sharing their news, and they were determined that this time would be different. They'd start with Keith, they decided. They'd tell him on Sunday.

It was three nights later, six days after they'd found out about the baby, that Logan woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He left the room quickly so as not to wake Veronica.

Maybe she heard him, or maybe it was just her body turning into a first trimester pee factory, but it was only seconds later that Veronica awoke and made her way sleepily to the bathroom. She was sliding back under the covers when she noticed that Logan was gone.

She padded softly out of the room and began to search for him all around the house. Without success. She knew he wouldn't have left the house, so it would be a waste of time to check the garage. _And besides,_ she thought, ever the investigator, _I would have heard the car._

And just like Logan all those months ago, it was only after she'd looked everywhere else that she thought of the yellow room. Veronica opened the door slowly. If Logan was in there, she didn't want to startle him.

He was sitting in the middle of the room, facing the bank of window that looked out over the street-side of the house. His knees were pulled up in front of him, and served as a resting place for his arms.

"Logan?" she said quietly.

Veronica saw his shoulders twitch slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, turning his head towards her. "I tried not to wake you."

"You didn't," she said, moving around to sit in front of him. "It was one of my bathroom trips."

Veronica turned herself around, and Logan made a place for her between his legs, pulling her tightly against his chest. She was silent for a few moments, as she waited for him to tell her why he'd left their bed.

She sighed finally and said, "What's wrong, Logan? Why are you in here?"

Veronica felt his kiss in her hair, but he still said nothing.

"Is it...the baby, Logan?" she asked. "Are you afraid something will happen...like the last time? Is that why you're sitting in here?"

She heard him sigh as he pulled her tighter.

"No, Veronica, that's not it," he finally replied in a quiet voice. "Although I'll probably be worried until it...it's born. But, I've got to have faith that it will be okay. And if...if something _should_ happen...something bad..."

He took a deep breath.

"If the worst should happen," he began again, "I know exactly how hard it will be. But...with you...I'll handle it...somehow."

Veronica pulled his arms around her more closely.

"Then what is it, Logan?" she asked again. "What's got you so spooked that you're sitting here in the dark in the middle of the night?"

Logan hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek.

"I've tried not to think about it," he said, "tried not to even imagine it. But I can't help it, Veronica. If...something should happen, I'd survive somehow..."

He paused, sighed.

"Unless...unless...you left again."

Veronica went still in his arms.

She told herself she was a fool not to have expected it. This was the man who had been abused or neglected or abandoned by every single person who was supposed to love him. Sometimes all three by the same person.

Aaron. Lynn. Lilly. Duncan.

Veronica.

A fresh wave of guilt washed over her when she thought about everything she'd put him through. She who loved him more than all those others combined. But the guilt was pointless and helped neither of them. She knew what _would_ help, though. Knew just what he needed to hear.

Veronica loosened the arms that were holding her tightly so that she could twist around and face Logan. She reached up and stroked his jaw, his cheek, his brow. When she ran her hand through his hair, Veronica felt a throb of love so fierce that it was like a physical blow.

_How did I ever live without him for so long?_

"I'm not going to leave you, Logan," she said. "I know I did before, but...I didn't know what the hell I was doing. But this time...this time you're stuck with me for good."

She smiled at him softly, searching his face in the dim light, looking for some sign that he understood. That he accepted.

"Please, Logan," she tried again, this time taking both his hands in her own. "Please believe that I need you every bit as much as you need me. Maybe...more."

And finally, suddenly, he let out a breath that he seemed to have been holding while she spoke. Or maybe he'd been holding that breath for years.

"Yeah?" he murmured, and smiled in return. She could see the sheen in his eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

"Yeah," she said, relieved. "Double yeah." Her smile became wider.

Veronica shivered then, perhaps from the chill of the October night or maybe it was the depth of her emotion.

"Come here," Logan said, twisting her around in his arms and pulling her tight to his chest once more. He ran his hands up and down her arms, and warmth flooded her body.

"We should probably get back to bed," he said, dropping a kiss on her head as she sat there in the circle of his arms.

"Not just yet," Veronica said. "Let's stay here a little while longer."

So they sat in silence for a few minutes, and then for a few more, both reluctant to part from that embrace, until finally the sky began to lighten, and they watched through the windows opposite as it turned a pale, dusky rose.

"Look," Veronica said, gazing at the pink sky. "It's a new day. A new day -- and a new beginning."

"And a new life," Logan said, stroking his fingers tenderly across her abdomen.

"The only thing that isn't new," he whispered, "is how very much I love you."

"And I, you," she murmured softly, covering his hand with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking this journey with me. I've enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it.


End file.
